


Your Best Friend, Blaine Anderson

by stut_ter



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-04
Updated: 2013-09-04
Packaged: 2017-12-25 13:47:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/953819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stut_ter/pseuds/stut_ter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine Anderson - 6 years old and in an advanced reading class in Portland, Oregon - is assigned a pen pal at the beginning of the year in first grade.  His pen pal becomes his best friend as their relationship grows through letters, emails, Skype, and texts until he's a junior in high school.  His pen pal?  Kurt Hummel from Lima, Ohio.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1st Grade

**Author's Note:**

> A very special THANK YOU to my artist, Jen (josswhedonyouremyhero), who is ridiculously talented. To my betas and pre-readers Riah (lurkdusoleil), Jude (judearaya), Misty (istytehcrawk), and Mimsy (borogroves).
> 
> You will notice misspellings in the letters at first. These are SUPPOSED to be there and are common student misspellings at this reading/decoding level. ALSO: this story is 25,500 words long...the "word count" is counting HTML for all the pictures I posted of words I wrote. :)
> 
> WARNING for the following: sexual situations between underage boys and also with themselves.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **All images are now hosted by imgur so there should no longer be a bandwidth problem! Thanks, guys!**

 

  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

***

  
“Mommy? Can I visit Kurt someday?”

Linda Anderson looks up from her knitting. Her youngest son is sitting cross-legged on the floor beneath the Christmas tree, his face turned toward her with expectant eyes. There’s wrapping paper cascading from the yawning mouth of a cardboard box that once contained new golf clubs, plates sticky with cinnamon bun residue, and half-empty cups of eggnog on the end table, but she can’t quite be bothered to clean up just yet. Not when the sweater she’s knitting for her mother has one more row of ribbing before she can block it and tomorrow is travelling day.

“I don’t know, honey, Ohio is a _long_ ways away. But we’ll see what happens, okay? You really like writing to him, huh?” Linda finishes her row and then begins the delightful task of binding off, the best part of the whole process.

Blaine stands up and walks to her, leaving his new riding helmet under the tree where he had been inspecting it. He puts both hands on her cheeks, forcing her to look in his eyes.

“Mommy, this is very serious.” Blaine says solemnly, and Linda finds it hard not to chuckle. “Kurt is my best friend.”

Her son’s dark eyes are wide and honest, and her heart soars he’s so sincere.

“And why is that, Blaine? What’s so special about Kurt? What about Charlie and Cooper?” Charlie had been their next door neighbor before his mother had been reassigned to Japan three months prior. And Cooper? Well...

“Cooper doesn’t count mom, he’s too busy,” Blaine says matter-of-factly. “And Charlie has been gone three months and hasn’t written one letter. He’s probably too busy, too. But Kurt writes me letters! Just for me! So he has to be my best friend now.”

Linda smiles and hugs her son, holding tight to the knitting in her right hand.

“Of course he does, Blaine.”

 

***

 

 

***

From: Linda Anderson [landerson@--]  
Sent: Jan 15, 2002 10:17 AM  
To: Elizabeth Hummel [bekhummel@--]  
Subject: Our Little Penpals

Hello Elizabeth,

I asked Blaine’s reading teacher, Mrs. Pine, if she would contact your teacher and ask you for your email address. Quite the convoluted process, but here you are finally! Blaine has been so excited to get to know your Kurt and so I wanted to touch base and just say that it has been such a wonderful thing for him. It makes him want to write and work on his spelling words so he can “write to his best friend”. I am very glad that the boys are communicating! Blaine was interested in taking Kurt on a little tour of our house for his next letter, so expect pictures of our cat and our backyard taken from a six-year-old’s point of view!

Linda Anderson

 

From: Elizabeth Hummel [bekhummel@--]  
Sent: Jan 15, 2002 8:42 PM  
To: Linda Anderson [landerson@--]  
Subject: RE: Our Little Penpals

Dear Linda,

Hello and so nice to meet you! Kurt talks about his penpal Blaine all the time and I find it so funny since I had one when I was younger as well, but I didn’t bond nearly so much as Kurt has with Blaine. I told him about the pictures that are coming and he is ecstatic! He begged me to use our camera and so you’ll see a lot of our home as well. My husband and I are thrilled that he has started this long-distance friendship and we look forward to hearing more from Blaine. :)

Liz Hummel

 

***

 

  
  
_(This is Cooper, he's my brother.)_

  
  
  


  


  
  


  
  


  
  


***

On the Sunday that everything changed, Blaine was at the store buying new tack for Diablo. The owners of the horse farm let him buy new brushes for him and let him bring apples for Diablo to eat. He is holding the bag and swinging his legs in the backseat of his dad’s volvo, excited because he just sent Kurt a new letter, when his dad’s cell phone rings.

“Hello?”

His dad listens while Blaine hums to the radio and watches the world fly by on the highway.

“Oh, no.”

His dad’s voice brings Blaine’s mind back to the warm June air blowing through the backseat. He strains to listen.

“Yeah, I’ll tell him. Love you.”

His dad gives him a look in the rearview mirror, but it isn’t one he’s ever seen before. He looks sad and nervous. Blaine’s dad never looks sad _or_ nervous.

This makes Blaine nervous.

“Is something wrong with Grandmom?”

Blaine’s dad’s mom was at the house visiting with Cooper and mommy. His dad always said to be careful with Grandmom because she is “old and frail.” Blaine had felt proud when he looked up what frail meant. Maybe something had happened because she is weak?

“No, Blaine. Nothing’s wrong with Grandmom, but mommy needs to talk to you when we get home. You aren’t in trouble, okay buddy? It’s about one of your friends.”

Blaine concentrates hard. He has friends who ride horses and friends who play soccer and some friends at school in the French class that dad has him take on Wednesdays. He has friends who are Cooper’s friends’ little brothers and people who his mom calls friends who are kids of other moms at his daddy’s work but he doesn’t really feel like they are his real friends.

He sits quietly in the backseat, no longer swinging his legs, watching anxiously for the sign with the big blue 19 that means they’re almost home.

***

“Do you want to read what Kurt’s teacher wrote, Blaine, or do you want me to tell you what it says?”

Blaine’s mom and Grandmom are watching him, and Cooper is hovering in the doorway. None of these things are normal, which just makes Blaine’s stomach twist tighter. _Why are they watching me?_ he thinks, but can’t ask because something is wrong with _Kurt_ who is his _best friend forever_ and who knows about sewing and asks him about Diablo and who wants to spell things right like Blaine does.

He looks at his mom and then at their Gateway computer and takes in a breath.

“I want to read it myself.”

He marches over to the desk and takes a seat.

 

From: Shannon Pine [spine@--]  
Sent: June 15, 2002 2:35 PM  
To: Linda Anderson [landerson@--]  
Subject: KH

Hi Linda,  
Please read the forwarded message and tell Blaine I am so sorry. I don’t know how you want to handle this at your home, but please be sure to tell me so that I know how to work with him at school.

Kindest,  
Mrs. Pine

From: Heath Menson [hmenson@--]  
Sent: June 14, 2002 8:34 PM  
To: Shannon Pine [spine@--]  
Subject: BA’s Penpal

Dear Mrs. Pine,  
I’m so sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I wanted to get a message to you as soon  
as possible so that you could talk to one of your students. My student, Kurt Hummel, lost  
his mother in a car accident today. She was driving home and someone ran a red light. I  
know that your student, Blaine, has been writing to Kurt all of this year and Kurt talks  
about him all the time. Could you possibly pass this information along to Blaine’s family?  
In case he doesn’t hear from Kurt for a little while and thinks he did something wrong.

Thank you so much for your time,  
Heath Menson

***

The box sits on the kitchen table for three weeks before Kurt even looks at it. He knows it’s from Blaine and he knows he _should_ open it. He just...hasn’t wanted to.

He hasn’t want to do anything without his mommy.

Today, though, he’s staring at the box, pajama feet barely touching the ground, while his dad makes macaroni and cheese that he won’t eat for lunch.

“Daddy?” he asks, voice barely a whisper.

Burt Hummel looks over, eyes red-rimmed but hopeful. Kurt knows this is because he’s barely talked since...since that day.

“Can I open Blaine’s box today, daddy?” Kurt asks, afraid of the answer being no - or yes.

Burt’s eyes soften and he turns off the stove and brings the pot to the sink, strainer waiting.

“Yeah, Bud. We can do that.”

Kurt watches, eyes owlish, as his dad mixes the macaroni and cheese.

The milk. The butter. The packet of fluorescent yellow-orange that his mommy used to say was only for special occasions as it might be bad for their skin to eat too much of it.

Kurt sighs.

Burt looks up from the pan and Kurt knows he can see him pulling back into himself, making his body as small as he can on the chair.

His dad leaves the food on the counter.

Kurt claps, just once, and Burt smiles as he picks the box up from the table.

“I wonder what your friend sent you? This box is pretty big, buddy.”

Kurt just shrugs and watches his dad take his leatherman from the place on his hip, his deft fingers flipping it open to find the small scissors within.

_snip snip_

The flaps on the box spring up, contents still hidden, and Kurt hesitates.

 _After this there is nothing to look forward to,_ he thinks.

“Daddy, after we open this can I write a letter to Blaine so he will write one back really soon?”

Burt ruffles Kurt’s hair and sits on the floor, bringing the box and Kurt with him. He settles the box in front of them and puts Kurt on his criss-crossed legs, breathing in the warm, perfect scent of his son.

Kurt doesn’t see his glossy eyes.

“Of course, Kurt. I’m sure he’d love to hear from you, you’re a good friend.”

Kurt nods.

“He’s my BEST friend, Dad.”

Burt chuckles and waits for Kurt to open the box.

“I know, kid. Are you gonna open it? It might be something crazy...an alligator or-”

“Daddy!” Kurt scolds, smiling, “An alligator wouldn’t fit in there!”

And, despite himself, Kurt laughs.

Burt coughs once and looks away.

“Okay then, prove me wrong,” he says when he’s pulled himself together enough to speak.

Kurt reaches for the box and pulls open each flap until all four are yawning open and he can clearly see the contents.

There’s a bear inside. A rather large bear with a blue coat. The coat has white toggles and is finely crafted, inviting Kurt to pick the bear up and touch. The bear is also wearing a yellow hat. He looks well loved, his eyes dull and the threads used to make his nose frayed a bit around the edges.

Kurt hugs him close and inspects the rest of the box. There’s a letter in an envelope and a rectangle wrapped in newspaper in the bottom. The envelope says, in big letters:

Kurt picks up the envelope, tears into it, and reads.

 

***

When Burt looks up, there are tears streaming down his son’s face.

Not the tears he’s seen for a few weeks now; no. These are the ones he’s been trying to hide from Burt.

They’re the ones he knows Kurt sheds in his bed at night when he thinks Burt isn’t listening. After he stoutly refuses to sleep in Burt’s bed because he’s a ‘big boy’. They’re the ones Burt’s been waiting to see, worried out of his mind that he wasn’t doing right by his son, and they’re falling all over Paddington Bear.

Paddington Bear, who’s clutched tightly between his son’s thin arms.

 _Thank you so much, Blaine,_ Burt thinks, then holds on to his son tight.

“I-” Kurt cries, turning his head into his dad’s chest and then continuing, muffled. “I miss her so mu-huh-huch.” He sobs, wracking things that break the steel in his spine, and Burt rocks him, clutching both Paddington and boy on the linoleum floor.

And Burt cries with him, mumbling into his son’s hair.

“It’s okay, buddy. We’re gonna be okay.”


	2. 3rd Grade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See 'Story Notes' on the first chapter.

 

 

 

Kurt reads and rereads the letter.

At no time can he remember a boy being his friend just because. In class they had always shied away, something about him so different than them that they never seemed to meet him in the middle. He had always had his mom at those times when he felt the most left out - when boys boasted about sports and he, in turn, boasted about dance class and they made fun of him not matter how much he insisted-

“Dancing IS a sport!”

\- or resisted their taunts -

“Where’s your tutu, ballerina?”

It’s nice to know that he has at least one boy on his side, even if he can’t have his mom anymore. He sighs and picks up his pencil to write his best friend back.


	3. 6th Grade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See story notes in chapter 1.

 

From: Blaine D. Anderson [b.anderson@--]  
Sent: September 5, 2006 12:37pm  
To: Kurt Hummel [k.hummel@--]  
Subject: EMAIL!!!!!!!

Dear Kurt,  
Look! LOOK. Today we have keyboarding and all 6th graders have to take it and we get email addresses and LOOK. My email is monitored, Kurt, but I don’t care! If you could see me I would be smiling! SPELLCHECK, KURT!

How is your day today? I’m glad you sent me your email address so we can talk like this now. Your dad is so cool to let you have one at home. I can’t yet but when I can I will email you from that. Mom says 7th grade. I say what’s the difference.

I jumped in competition this weekend. Diablo was amazing even though we didn’t place because I misjudged and we knocked down a few times.

Talk to me! We’re electronic!

Love,  
Blaine

***

When Kurt hadn’t written back for two days, Blaine sighed and picked up the phone. It rang twice and then-

“Hello, Hummel residence.”

Blaine jolts, almost dropping the phone in his excitement.

“Kurt! I sent you an email so you have to check it now!”

Kurt smiles as he crosses the kitchen to open the fridge. He pulls the door open and peeks in, seeking dinner.

“Why Blaine Anderson, it’s so nice to talk to you, too,” Kurt drawls, rooting through the contents of the top shelf and settling for some day-old pasta salad.

“I’m serious, Kurt! We can talk every _day_ now and not worry about minutes or using the phone!”

Blaine’s excitement is contagious, and Kurt pauses mid-reach into the cupboard, laying his hand on the shelf.

“That is pretty cool, Blaine. This way I can keep you updated each time I practice my audition song for Cinderella.” Kurt continues his reach and grabs one of his mother’s favorite blue bowls, setting it softly on the counter and reaching for the silverware drawer. He’s barely opened it when Blaine answers.

“Cinderella?” he asks, completely distracted by Kurt’s news.

“Cinderella. I’m trying out for the prince but with my luck I’ll get the steward,” Kurt replies, spooning perfectly seasoned salad into his bowl, his mouth watering. “Oh my god, I am so hungry right now.”

Blaine chuckles, then turns serious. “You won’t get the steward, dummy, stop doing that.”

Kurt pauses, mid-chew. “Stowp dewwing whut?”

“Well, firstly, stop eating while you’re on the phone, rude. And secondly, stop underestimating yourself.”

Kurt chews and swallows.

“Yes, mom.”

Blaine laughs. “I’m _serious_ , Kurt.”

“Me too, _Blaaaaine_ ,” Kurt whines back, chomping loudly on nonexistent salad, totally bent on getting Blaine’s goat until Blaine’s laughter thrums down the line.

They both giggle until Blaine talks again. “You ARE talented, though, and you’ll totally get it.”

Kurt rolls his eyes and stabs a pile of macaroni.

“No. You don’t get to say that because ONE video my dad forwarded to your mom a.) doesn’t count, and b.) doesn’t show...” He breaks off, hesitating because this is ground he never discusses with Blaine. “It doesn’t show how nervous I get.”

Blaine huffs out a sigh and Kurt can hear Blaine’s mom’s voice in the background.

“You’ll be fine, Kurt. I’m sure of it.”

Kurt frowns, but Blaine can’t see it and he won’t say what he already knows - that some boy who sounds older and looks older will get it.

“Thanks, Blaine. I’ll go read your email.”

“Bye Kurt.”

“Bye.”

***

From: Kurt [k.hummel@hotmail.com]  
Sent: September 5, 2006 5:36pm  
To: Blaine [b.anderson@--]  
Subject: re: EMAIL!!!!!!!

Blaine,

You are a dork. I think you should know this. We are electronic and yet still you are a dork. I’m smiling but you can’t see it.

I have a confession. I’m afraid to audition because they won’t think I’m “boy” enough to be the prince.

And now I’m freaking out thinking about telling you but there’s no one else to tell.

Love,  
Kurt

 

To: Kurt [k.hummel@--]  
Sent: September 6, 6:25pm  
From: Blaine D. Anderson [b.anderson@--]  
Subject: No.

Kurt,

Really? The teachers there are that stupid? They need to see talent and if they can’t you need to tell them how you feel. That’s what MY mom says. So maybe that helps?

And you can always tell me everything Kurt. That’s what best friends are for. Don’t be embarrassed.

Love,  
Blaine

***

Kurt closes the window on the computer and walks slowly to his room. He can’t remember a time when he’s been so nervous - wanted something so much - and of course, Blaine is there. Blaine is _always_ there, even though sometimes Kurt dreads the day that Blaine will realize what the other boys at school already have; that he’s too cool and too _boy_ to be friends with Kurt. It’s his biggest fear; the one that keeps him up at night: that Blaine will realize these things and then, well, he’ll actually be alone.

He reaches his stereo without even thinking about it, his hands hovering over the old Broadway recording of Cinderella. He puts it in, selects his song, and presses play.

_Maybe._

***

From: Kurt [k.hummel@--]  
Sent: September 25, 2006 4:02pm  
To: Blaine [b.anderson@--]  
Subject: (no subject)

Blaine,

I’m the steward.

Kurt

 

To: Kurt [k.hummel@--]  
Sent: September 25, 6:25pm  
From: Blaine D. Anderson [b.anderson@--]  
Subject: Well that’s stupid.

Kurt,

Read the subject.

Ok. Now here’s some hugs from Oregon: OOOOOO. I can’t believe they are so stupid. Your voice is amazing Kurt and I just don’t get it. You are a nice person and fun to be around (well, talk to around? I don’t know.) and be friends with.

You can sing to me instead. So there! HA stupid auditioners! HA.

You know I like to sing too right?

Love,  
Blaine

***

The house phone rings during dinner.

Blaine’s dad eyes the phone and then looks pointedly at both Blaine and his mother. No one calls during dinner.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone,” his mom says, as if his dad had asked a question.

“Me neither,” Blaine chimes in, eager to avoid his father’s gaze.

They both watch his dad cross to the phone and check the caller ID panel. Then he turns his head to smile at the table while he picks up.

“Hello, Anderson residence,” his dad says, small smile on his face as he listens. “Yes, well he is here, Kurt, but we are in the middle of dinner so he’ll have to call you back.” Blaine smiles, too, excited to talk to his friend after finishing the asparagus salad in front of him. He digs in his fork as his dad finishes up. “Okay, then, good night Kurt.”

His dad hangs up the phone and comes back to the table, smiling warmly at Blaine.

“I like that you are still friends with Kurt, Blaine. He has such lovely manners.”

Blaine nods, throat moving to swallow his mouthful of salad.

“You might want to remind him of the dinner rule,” his dad continues, serving himself some more boiled ham, “though he seemed quite eager to talk to you...”

He eyes his son’s empty plate and bouncing knee.

“You may be excused-” he says, and Blaine is out of the chair, grabbing the phone, and up the stairs before he can even finish.

Mr. and Mrs. Anderson watch him go.

“Did you ever think that they would stay this close?” Blaine’s dad asks, the fingertips of his left hand reaching for his wife’s right.

“Never, but I’m glad for it,” she replies, linking their hands. “Especially with Cooper gone. It’s nice that he has someone so close.”

They both smile and resume their dinner, listening to Blaine banging up the stairs to his room.

***

“YOU SING?!”

Blaine is laughing, his whole body shaking into his comforter, because Kurt didn’t even say _hello_.

“Um...yes?” He braces himself because-

“ _Why is this brand new information, Blaine Anderson?! Blaine ‘you’re my best friend’ Anderson?!_ ”

Kurt’s screech is on high and Blaine can’t stop laughing.

“Are you...are you LAUGHING at me?!” Kurt demands, but Blaine can hear him smiling.

“Yes, yes I ammmmmm,” Blaine answers, drawing out the last sound as a hum, tracing patterns onto the bedspread he’s sprawled on, 12-year-old long-legs all akimbo.

“Well then you owe me. BIG time,” Kurt replies, and Blaine sits up.

“Oh?”

“Yes, _oh_ , Blaine. What are you going to sing for me? And NO, it’s not an option. You’re singing right _now_!”

Blaine takes a deep breath.

“I’m telling you loosen up my buttons, uh huuuuh, but you keep frontin’-”

“ARE YOU HONESTLY SINGING ME PUSSYCAT DOLLS, BLAINE?!”

Blaine laughs again, and hits the comforter with his fist.

“It’s a _good song_ , Kurt, and wait until I get to the part about being a sexy mama-”

“So help me, Blaine,” Kurt chides, his voice smooth and cold over the phone, “I will hang up this phone and send you every Broadway album I own.”

“I’ll have you know that I like a myriad of musical stylings,” Blaine answers, trying on one of his vocabulary words of the week.

Kurt giggles from his end of the phone. “Myriad?”

Blaine puts on his haughtiest air to reply.

“Yes. Myriad. ‘Numberless, infinite…a great number’ of musical styles, Kurt.”

“Or just ten thousand, you know,” Kurt replies, gently mocking.

“Name a song,” Blaine challenges, “Name ONE song from a musical and see if I know it.” He sits on the edge of his bed, waiting.

Silence from Kurt’s end and then-

“’Something’s Coming’ from West Side Story. Bring it,” Kurt says airily.

Blaine jumps up from his bed and crosses to his iPod dock. He finds the song and presses play, just to keep time.

“Could be! Who knows? There’s something due, any day, I will know right away, soon as it showwws! It may come cannonballing down through the sky, gleam in its eye, bright as a rose!”

Kurt squeals and claps through the phone and Blaine continues, singing the whole song and even holding the last _tonight_ out as long as he can.

After the song ends and he’s gasping a little for breath, Blaine hears Kurt clapping through the phone.

“Thank you, thank you,” Blaine says, full smart-ass.

“Well, well, Mr. Anderson, you can _sing_ ,” Kurt says, a bit wistfully. Blaine hears it and knows, in his heart, why.

“It doesn’t make me more boy-ish than you, Kurt.”

Silence.

“I mean, I know you like to sew like you did with your mom and that you have a higher voice than me still but-“

“You don’t get it, Blaine. You don’t have to see those boys every day. It’s like I did something to personally offend them. I mean, I just…I thought it would get better in middle school. I thought there would be…well, more people anyway. Someone was bound to like the same things but…”

“Listen, Kurt. You’re awesome, okay? Don’t let the stupid boys at your school tell you differently. I bet none of them rebuilt a _car_ , Kurt, and isn’t that boyish? Like, I know no one really knows but…”

Kurt laughs resignedly.

“I guess.”

Blaine steels his shoulders.

“Kurt, I-“

He breathes, in through his nose and out through his mouth, three quick breaths.

“I think I like boys.”

He’s shaking now, looking at his closed door and hoping his mother isn’t listening. He’s been thinking about it a lot lately, about how he’s never had a crush on a girl like the other boys, and he’s not talking about who’s getting boobs at all like the whole sixth grade locker room. He kind of wants to tell Ellen in fourth period gym that she _really_ has to buy a bra because it’s reached that point, but he knows he’ll just seem like some pervert. He’s only twelve but-

“I mean, like, I think I have a crush on one.”

He’s floundering, the silence from the other end of the phone killing him slowly. He’s about to blurt out that he’s lying, that he just wanted to make Kurt feel better when Kurt speaks.

“Thank you for trusting me so much, Blaine. Have you told anyone else?”

Blaine breathes a sigh of relief. “No,” he replies, collapsing onto his bed, “but I wish I could because it’s so confusing. I mean, girls are so _nice_ , right? But…it’s not the girls I think about like, a first kiss with, you know?”

He pauses, wishing he could push the words back into his mouth. _Why did I say that he’s going to laugh he’s going to stop being my friend he’s-_

Instead, Kurt asks, “Why are you telling me this now?”

“Well, I um…” Blaine struggles, trying to remember a time before he said he thought he was gay to his best friend. “I’m just letting you know that you’re not more ‘boy’ than I am, I guess.”

“Oh, Blaine,” Kurt whispers, “If you like boys that doesn’t make you less boy, oh my god, I mean, like-“

They both sit in uncomfortable silence, Blaine bursting with gratitude he doesn’t know how to express.

After a full minute of silence, Kurt finishes.

“What I’m trying to say is that I’m still your best friend, right?”

Blaine nods and then realizes Kurt can’t see him.

“Yeah, of course, like, especially now.”

“Okay,” Kurt continues, “So trust me when I say you aren’t less of a boy. I mean, not to me.”

Blaine could cry. Ever since the third day of school, when Trevor was assigned as his science lab partner, he’s been thinking about him. His laugh and his eyes and how _smart_ he is. And after that he thought about what all that thinking _meant_ and about who he is and who he can talk to and-

“Blaine?”

“Yeah,” he says, voice hoarse before he clears it and continues, “I mean, just…thanks. I didn’t have anybody to talk to about it and maybe it’s just _that_ boy, I don’t know…and just thank you. OKAY. I CAN FEEL THE AWKWARD, KURT.”

Kurt laughs, long and musical, and Blaine can feel himself relaxing.

“Just…okay, one more thing. Let’s not talk about this on email, okay?”

“I promise.”

Blaine can hear the fierce sincerity in his voice, and wishes, not for the first time, that he could hug his best friend.

***

From: Kurt [k.hummel@--]  
Sent: October 29, 2006 7:32pm  
To: Blaine [b.anderson@--]  
Subject: Oil Change MASTER!

Blaine,

I will have you know that I changed the oil in not one, but THREE cars yesterday at the shop. I AM A MASTER! BOW DOWN TO ME!

How did your first polo practice go? I HAVE BEEN WAITING WITH BAITED BREATH AND NO EMAIL, BLAINE. Did you hit someone with the stick? What’s it called, anyway? I’m just going to call it a polo stick until you fix it.

Ha. Ha. Ha. Polo stick. Like a pogo stick, right?

Now I am seeing you bounce around a field in my head. You are totally never, ever fixing this.

Love, The Oil Change Master,

Kurt

P.S. I really do want to know about the polo. How dare you not call or write.

***

Blaine reads the email and sighs, his right shoulder and back screaming at him. He had come home straight from practice the day before and iced his shoulder, then begged his mom for a heating pad for his back.

His mantra? _My body’s just adjusting, my body will conform._

Cooper had said this to him on a rare Friday-night phone call just two days ago, knowing that Blaine had his first practice.

Blaine wonders now how many times his mom had to text his brother, now a senior in college, to get those results.

He’s lying in bed even now, his laptop propped on his stomach and the heating pad still under his lower back, even with the switch off. He just doesn’t feel like getting up.

He moves to type back, groaning and biting his lip even as his fingers hit the keys.

 

To: Kurt [k.hummel@--]  
Sent: October 29, 2006 8:10pm  
From: Blaine D. Anderson [b.anderson@--]  
Subject: re: Oil Change MASTER!

Kurt,

*bows down*

Oh, mighty oil changer, I find myself unworthy of your time.

Ok so that’s as far as I can take that before I laugh and it HURTS to laugh, Kurt. It HURTS. Polo practice was so hardcore, oh my god. Three hours. THREE. The coach had us practice trying to hit the ball over and over and yeah, it’s so we don’t hurt someone but my ARM, Kurt. It’s going to fall off. Literally. Fall. Off.

So I am in my bed with a heating pad under my lower back and being a big baby and mom’s bringing me ice in twenty minutes before bed.

HOW DID COOPER SURVIVE THIS TORTURE?!

I am truly glad for the face mask attached to my helmet though. I look like an idiot but when people raise their mallets - MALLETS, KURT - getting hit with one would be really, really bad. Ugh.

My polo pony’s name is Kingston. He’s a made pony, which means he’s played for awhile and he works well with someone who’s learning. Like me.

You are not funny. I can hear you laughing at me from here. Stop laughing at me when I’m down!

No Love at ALL, you mean, mean person,

Blaine

***

“Anything to report about Trevor?”

Blaine’s got a stick of celery, loaded with peanut butter, half into his mouth when Kurt asks. His mom and dad aren’t home and Cooper isn’t due to be home for Christmas break for another three hours. He’s taken over the kitchen island, wrapping gifts and having a snack.

“Not reawwy, no,” Blaine replies, cringing at his full mouth.

“Hmm, I might know why...” Kurt begins, but Blaine hisses at him as he cuts a length of silver and gold paper around his mother’s gift. He swallows.

“Why am I always talking to you when I’m eating? I always forget my manners and then I have to deal with your bullshit.”

Kurt mock-gasps.

“Why Blaine _Anderson_! What is that middle school doing to you? My innocent ears!”

“Oh shut up, you’ve heard worse at the shop.” Blaine mumbles, but he’s embarrassed. He’s only just used these words a few times around the other kids who have been using them and they don’t taste quite right in his mouth.

“Yes, but never from you.” Kurt’s voice is quiet and Blaine thinks he might really have made a mistake.

“I’m sorry, Kurt, I just-” _am trying something new? Am seeing if this skin fits?_ “I heard it from some friends and wanted to see how it sounded.”

Kurt laughs. “Blaine, I’m not offended, I just didn’t expect it. You’re such a...such a _gentleman_. Don’t worry about it, I’ve sworn before. In my room. Where no one can hear me. Like...damn and hell and stuff.”

Blaine feels the tension in his neck leech out and onto the floor around him, and he pulls up the sides of his mom’s wrapping paper. He traps the phone between his shoulder and chin to rip off a piece of tape and affix it to the present.

“Okay, then.” he says, folding the ends of the paper in on themselves and taping again. “But I won’t say it again. It’s too weird anyway.”

“You’re such an asshole-” Kurt begins, and Blaine drops his tape.

“KURT!”

***

From: Kurt [k.hummel@--]  
Sent: February 13, 2007 7:32pm  
To: Blaine [b.anderson@--]  
Subject: Look at this.

Blaine,

Ok. So this is my first time trying this, but what do you think? I made a vest. It’s not much, but I used _really_ nice material that I found on sale and buttons from my mom’s button box. I’d like to think she’d be proud. I hummed her sewing song the whole time I made it. Can you believe I remember it? Sometimes I think I won’t remember her forever but then I go into the sewing room and open her dresser there and I can smell her and feel her like she’s never left.

I hugged Paddington a few times. He’s staying here forever, you know. You’ll just have to come and get him (haha).

I used red because of Valentine’s day...even though I obviously won’t have a valentine. Ugh.

Love,  
Kurt

***

“I think it looks good on you - you cut the fabric really well.”

Kurt is lying on his bed, his feet on the wall, listening to Blaine talk about his vest.

He’s kind of beaming.

“You think so? I mean, it was my first one so I didn’t know-”

“No, no, really,” Blaine insists, voice emphatic, “It looks like you bought it at a store, Kurt. I would buy it if I liked vests.”

Kurt deflates. “You don’t like vests?”

“Not a lot, I _am_ fond of bow ties, though. I have a collection going.”

Kurt is incredulous.

“And you don’t get beat up?” He pulls in a breath, realizing how rude he just sounded, and he drums his heels against his headboard anxiously.

Blaine is quiet on the other end of the line.

“Um, no?” Blaine’s voice is small, weak. “Why would you think I would?”

Kurt shrugs into the mattress.

“I mean...just...anything other than sports jerseys and sweatpants here and people give me ‘the look’, you know? I mean, I just-”

Blaine sighs on the other end of the line and Kurt gives up, his eyes tearing, because although Blaine understands so much about him, this is apparently one thing they will never have in common.

“I guess it doesn’t happen to you, and that’s okay, Blaine. I just wish that I could make whatever I wanted and not have it come back and hit me in the face.” The fingers of Kurt’s let hand fiddle with a loose string on the edge of his sheets, and he cranes his neck to see the vest hanging on the outside of his closet. “I like it, though. And I’m glad you do, too.”

“I really, really do, Kurt. You should just wear it. Screw them.” Kurt can hear Blaine’s smile at the curse word. Their gentleman’s joke.

“Blaine, language.”

“Kurt, wear the damn vest.”


	4. 8th Grade

 

“Grandmom, are you sure that you want me to bring _all_ the boxes down that say dad’s name? Because there are like, seven million of them up here!”

Blaine listens intently, praying that-

“Yes, Blaine dear, and I’ll send Cooper up to help you, too.”

Blaine groans. Cooper will just tell him how he’s doing it _wrong_ , ugh, he’d rather just move them all himself. He’s trying to think of the best way to say ‘no thanks, my brother is really more helpful batting his eyelashes at you, gram’ when Cooper’s head pops up the attic’s fold-out stairs.

“Squirt.”

“Jerkface.”

“You wound me, Blaine. I’ve never been anything but loving to you and now I’m here, despite the heat wave, bearing the humidity and ready to toil alongside you in this haven of dust mites and still, you wound.”

Blaine sighs, but he’s smiling as he hefts up two boxes stacked atop each other. “C’mon, you _beautiful, talented, stunning_ jerkface. Let’s get all these down for the yard sale.”

“That’s better,” Cooper calls as Blaine struggles down the stairs. “At least you’re referring to me with a measured amount of respect.”

“Hope you have something smaller than a ruler to measure it with, Coop!” Blaine yells up, laughing as he makes his way down the stairs.

“HEY!” he hears muffled from above, and he grins harder than he has in a long time.

***

“Have you ever heard of Roxy Music, Kurt?”

“No?” Kurt replies, scratching at the bathroom mirror where he’s been cleaning. Toothpaste, yuchhh. “Is it new?” He picks up the Windex and sprays, careful not to get any on the phone where it’s perched, speakerphone light shining.

“No, not new, Kurt. _Old._ Like, my dad listened to them in college. And they’re a band and I found their records in my Grandmom’s attic.”

“Did you find anymore of Paddington’s stuff there?” Kurt asks, wiping down the mirror and making a face at himself. “Because that would be cool.”

Blaine sighs. “No, and stop interrupting you bear-snatcher, you have to listen to this!”

Kurt puts down the Windex with a bang.

“Hey! I didn’t snatch him! He arrived at my doorstep via the most professional mail handlers money can buy! I just have chosen to keep him for all eternity, this is not up for debate, jeez.”

Kurt turns for the paper towels and makes for the toilet, brush in hand.

Blaine cackles, and he _must be_ hyped up because he just speeds along.

“Okay so there’s this band from England called Roxy music and the main guy, Bryan Ferry, he’s the singer and songwriter, but the band had people in and out of it and get THIS, Kurt. Besides, you know, the usual bassist and guitarist and stuff there was an oboe and a sax and even a violin, Kurt! I mean, holy crap, that is so _cool_ , I mean I love the piano so it’s like maybe I can do something like that, you know? And since I’ve been in chorus and advanced chorus at the middle school my voice is better and better and like-” Blaine stops, gulping for breath, and Kurt can just _see _him bouncing around in his room and something in his chest begins to ache just a little.__

___Crushes on best friends are not a thing to begin now_ , he thinks, and speaks._ _

__“So where’s this song I _have_ to hear, huh?” He flushes the toilet._ _

__“Am I in the _bathroom_ with you, Kurt?! Are you _peeing _with me on the phone, oh my god!” Blaine sounds scandalized and Kurt blooms red, not even realizing what it would sound like on Blaine’s end.___ _

____“No, you idiot! I’m cleaning the bathroom! Dad won’t do it this week because he’s crazy busy at the shop and I do it every other week anyway, _god_ , who do you think I am?” Kurt’s laughing, though, because he can hear Blaine giggling._ _ _ _

____And yeah, it’s really nice._ _ _ _

____“Liar,” Blaine wheezes, “You were totally peeing. We’re there, Kurt. We’ve reached old married status.”_ _ _ _

____Kurt freezes, laughter dying in his throat. _Is it that obvious to him? Shit. Shit shit shit.__ _ _ _

____“Kurt?” Blaine’s not laughing now, concern edging his voice. “What’s wrong?”_ _ _ _

____“I dropped the Windex on my toe. Like, ow.”_ _ _ _

____Blaine’s laughter peals out again._ _ _ _

____“Sure, sure. Just tell yourself what you need to, Hummel, but I know the truth. You trust me to come in the bathroom with you. I’ll keep it between us - now listen to this song.”_ _ _ _

____Kurt smiles, no cover blown, and cleans up his cleaning-up mess while words dance down the line from Oregon to Ohio._ _ _ _

___T’aint no big thing__  
To wait for the bell to ring  
T’aint no big thing  
The toll of the bell..._

____Kurt smiles and hums along, picking up the beat._ _ _ _

_____Oh, Blaine._ _ _ _ _

____***_ _ _ _

__To: Blaine [b.d.anderson@--]__  
Sent: September 19, 2008 10:15pm  
From: Kurt [k.e.hummel@--]  
Subject: Confession 

____Blaine,_ _ _ _

____If you had a cell phone I would just text you because this is too hard to say in person. Well, on the phone. Whatever. Your parents are letting you get one next year, right? That’s not just a story? Because that will make this so much easier, oh my god._ _ _ _

____I have a crush on someone and, okay well, _he_ will never notice me because I’m just me and he’s a football player and I can’t have that but he’s so adorable and _tall_ and..._ _ _ _

____Anyway, he’s a he. And I know you told me a long time ago I just couldn’t tell you because...because they all seemed to already know, you know? And I mean I guess I should’ve said so a long time ago but I didn’t want you to think that I did because you did or I was because you are and this is really bad so I’m just going to stop and just hit send because yeah._ _ _ _

____Your best friend,  
Kurt._ _ _ _

____***_ _ _ _

__To: Kurt [k.e.hummel@--]__  
Sent: September 19, 2008 10:23pm  
From: Blaine [b.d.anderson@--]  
Subject: You Are Dumb 

____Kurt,_ _ _ _

____I’m not them. You know you can always tell me anything. Have a little trust in me, man! I didn’t assume anything about you - not then and not now._ _ _ _

____Is this what’s going to happen to me when I get to high school? I’m going to be all dramatic about everything? Because wow, that’s a bit much... *insert sarcasm dripping off the computer, Kurt, like, gallons of sarcasm*_ _ _ _

____HEY. So this is less awkward for you, let me tell you about the jumping competition through QuietRein...I placed first in my division this year! I feel like I haven’t heard your voice in weeks, but I know that has to do with school and jumping and the shop and choral rehearsals for the musical in October. I am so glad I did the community theater this year, Kurt. Little Shop of Horrors is awesome and it’s so cool to be just an extra singer._ _ _ _

____Diablo couldn’t jump because he wasn’t feeling well, so I used Sugarloaf, one of the alternates. We’re waiting to hear back about Diablo, so my brain is pretty full._ _ _ _

____Love you, Kurt._ _ _ _

____Your best friend,  
Blaine_ _ _ _

____***_ _ _ _

____“He died.”_ _ _ _

____Kurt’s taken aback, but knows immediately who Blaine is referring to on the other end. He steadies himself and sits down on the couch, his dad ensconced in the game in the family room._ _ _ _

____“How?” Kurt waits, listening to Blaine cry, heart heavy with wanting to hold his friend._ _ _ _

____“He-” Blaine stops and breathes, a little moan cutting through as he steadies himself. “He got a sickness from some mosquito or fly or something that a younger horse might’ve been able to fight but, you know, he was over twenty and I just-”_ _ _ _

____He breaks down again, just crying and letting Kurt listen and murmur; tiny words of comfort and understanding whispers as he cries._ _ _ _

____In the end, both of their phones are wet, and Blaine is spent, asleep on his bed, when Kurt lays down on his own bed and just listens to Blaine breathe, wishing he could take sadness from the world and replace it with light._ _ _ _

____Wishing that those we love never had to leave this world._ _ _ _

____***_ _ _ _

__To: Kurt [k.e.hummel@--]__  
Sent: October 27, 2008 7:35pm  
From: Blaine [b.d.anderson@--]  
Subject: Boy 

____Kurt,_ _ _ _

____Okay so there is a boy. His name is Zach, remember I talked about him last week? When you were making cookies for your social studies teacher? Remember he likes Iron Man, The Dark Knight, AND Wall-E?_ _ _ _

____I am kind of freaking out because he’s on my polo team and I told him something stupid yesterday and we have a team sleepover after the match this weekend. Kurt, I am freaking out and you aren’t home (you are at the garage I think)._ _ _ _

____We were all talking about sleeping arrangements. I said something I didn’t think sounded too crazy even though I have like, this huge crush on him. Okay so he was talking about how his younger sister stole his sleeping bag and colored on it with permanent marker and so I made a joke like, “Oh, you can share mine, don’t worry” when what I meant was you can USE mine but I am so stupid and he just looked at me like I was so sick or something, Kurt, and then he told the other boys on the team and I just..._ _ _ _

____Kurt they were all talking about me in the locker room, I think, because when I came in after practice they all stopped talking._ _ _ _

____I am so sad right now, Kurt._ _ _ _

____Call me when you get this, okay?_ _ _ _

____Love,  
Blaine_ _ _ _

____***_ _ _ _

__To: Blaine [b.d.anderson@--]__  
Sent: October 27, 2008 10:58pm  
From: Kurt [k.e.hummel@--]  
Subject: I’ll call at 11:15 if you get this, okay? Reply and be on it. 

____***_ _ _ _

____The phone doesn’t even ring, the display just lights up and Blaine’s already pressing the button, talking._ _ _ _

____“This year sucks so badly,” he says, not even disguising the tears in his voice. Diablo night had brought them to a different place, and Blaine feels it in his chest, in the marrow of his bones, that he can break everything down around Kurt and let himself be sad or angry or happy or irate. He doesn’t even try to hide it, just lets the tears flow. “I mean, Diablo is gone and then this happens and...the way some of them _looked_ at me, Kurt. I didn’t come out or anything and they are just judging me so _much_. How do I even go to the party?”_ _ _ _

____“I have no idea, Blaine, but I’m here to listen.”_ _ _ _

____Blaine groans and buries his face into his bed._ _ _ _

____“I know,” Kurt soothes from his side of the country, “I wish I could tell you how to navigate this...but I can’t. They boys from the football team are still throwing _me_ in the dumpster so I don’t even know what to-”_ _ _ _

____Blaine sits up, his own problem forgotten._ _ _ _

____“Wait, what?” he asks, all thoughts of the party pushed aside for a moment as his elbows dig into the mattress and he clutches the phone tighter. “Who does that to you, Kurt?”_ _ _ _

____“The-” Kurt sighs, loudly, into the phone, and Blaine winces. “Ugh, it’s the varsity football team. For some reason my clothes scream ‘put me in the trash’ to them. Then again, they’ve probably never _seen_ a vintage McQueen so...”_ _ _ _

____Blaine feels the bile rise in his throat and his hands begin to shake._ _ _ _

____“I-” he replies, not sure what to say, but his thoughts betray him. “I _hate_ that, Kurt. Who the hell do they think they are, treating you like that? If I were there, I would- I mean, I could-”_ _ _ _

____He stops, unsure of what he could do, and slumps his shoulders. “There’s nothing I could do, is there? Nothing I can do for you or for me?”_ _ _ _

____“That’s not true, Blaine, please don’t think that.” Kurt replies, strength in his voice that Blaine soaks up like the sun. “You can still be you and I can still be me. Just because they don’t understand us doesn’t make us _wrong_ , Blaine. We just...need to be somewhere where we can be ourselves and, just...not worry about it. But that time isn’t now.”_ _ _ _

____The last part is wistful, and Blaine is sorry he made Kurt think about this at all._ _ _ _

____“If I were there I could stand by you.”_ _ _ _

____He says it, and he knows it’s true. If he were in Lima and Kurt were about to be thrown in a dumpster, Blaine knows he would stand by his best friend, hold his hand even, and get thrown in, too, if it meant that for one moment neither of them would be alone._ _ _ _

____“Yeah?” Kurt’s voice is clipped, almost as if the word snuck out of his throat without him meaning it to._ _ _ _

____“Fuck yeah.”_ _ _ _

____Kurt gasps and then-_ _ _ _

____“Blaine Devon! Language!”_ _ _ _

____They both laugh and somehow the spectre of the sleepover doesn’t seem so dark._ _ _ _

____***_ _ _ _

__To: Kurt [k.e.hummel@--]__  
Sent: November 2, 2008 9:15am  
From: Blaine [b.d.anderson@--]  
Subject: Gayness level: deadly, apparently. 

____Kurt,_ _ _ _

____It didn’t go well. I don’t want to call and talk about it because there’s nothing to say, really. The boy who I originally said the thing to talked to the other boys and they basically didn’t talk to me. I mean, when Tom’s mom was there they tried but as soon as she was gone they all avoided me. Boys I’ve ridden with since I was little and some of them looked like they wanted to talk to me but then they would look at the others and just back off._ _ _ _

____I didn’t think it would be like this here. I mean, it’s not like we live in some super conservative state or something. It’s just...harder. Than I thought. I haven’t even told my parents yet but maybe some of their parents know? And it started showing at school somehow even though only 5 boys on my team are from school._ _ _ _

____I hate this._ _ _ _

____But I’m glad you understand._ _ _ _

____Love,  
Blaine_ _ _ _

____***_ _ _ _

__To: Blaine [b.d.anderson@--]__  
Sent: November 2, 2008 10:45am  
From: Kurt [k.e.hummel@--]  
Subject: I can see your gay from space. 

____Blaine,_ _ _ _

____Honestly, I can see it from here. Wooo, boy. SO gay. Stupid idiots. I am so sorry you have to deal with their...well, bullshit. (Shh, yes I know, LANGUAGE, KURT!) Listen: there’s nothing we can do to change their minds, they will have to wait and see and learn. Unfortunately for us. But we have each other, like you said, and we can do this together even if I am 2500 miles away and maybe my personage shouts “GAY” more than you do._ _ _ _

____Anything exciting coming up?_ _ _ _

____Love,  
Kurt_ _ _ _

____***_ _ _ _

__To: Kurt [k.e.hummel@--]__  
Sent: November 2, 2008 2:45pm  
From: Blaine [b.d.anderson@--]  
Subject: re: I can see your gay from space. 

____Kurt,_ _ _ _

____Ha. Ha. Ha. Nice subject, jerk._ _ _ _

____Yeah, actually. There’s a Sadie Hawkins dance on Friday night. I’m thinking of asking this other boy, Alex, to the dance and breaking all the rules so we can at least have fun (he is already out in our school and the only one I know who is). HA. So there! Although my mom might want to know if a girl asked me. I think I’m going to leave that one alone for awhile and just meet him there. We get to wear a suit, though. I’m pretty pumped about that because..._ _ _ _

____BOWTIES, KURT!_ _ _ _

____What color, eh?_ _ _ _

____Love,  
Blaine_ _ _ _

____***_ _ _ _

__To: Blaine [b.d.anderson@--]__  
Sent: November 2, 2008 6:47pm  
From: Kurt [k.e.hummel@--]  
Subject: I am so impressed. 

____Blaine,_ _ _ _

____I am just...speechless. Even after everything, you’re going to just go out and have fun and be okay with it. I...I wish I were braver._ _ _ _

____I am so proud to be your friend right now._ _ _ _

____Love,  
Kurt_ _ _ _

____***_ _ _ _

____“So I asked Alex to the dance.”_ _ _ _

____Kurt has just walked in the door, his phone blaring, and his coat isn’t even off. He’s beaming, though, filled with pride and awe at his best friend’s courage._ _ _ _

____“YES! And...?” Kurt replies, tugging on his boots and trying to keep the phone tucked against his ear at the same time._ _ _ _

____“Well, I don’t know. Information like that is top secret information, Hummel, and we need to be assured of your credentials....”_ _ _ _

____“Blaine, don’t be a dipshit.” Kurt’s left boot lands on the floor with a satisfying clunk as Blaine laughs at the other end of the line, and he scrapes his coat off while Blaine’s giggles taper off. Kurt doesn’t even need to ask again, he already knows Alex said yes just by the jubilant lilt of Blaine’s voice._ _ _ _

____“Language, sir!” Blaine blurts out, and Kurt can’t help it, he laughs too, Blaine’s joy is infectious even thousands of miles away. “Yes! He said yes!”_ _ _ _

____“So,” Kurt says, voice dropping conspiratorially, “tell me all about...Alex.” He enters the kitchen as he says it, opening cupboards and taking out noodles, sauce, and spice for the lasagna he’s making for dinner, as Blaine groans on the other end of the line._ _ _ _

____“Oh my god, Kurt, you know it’s not like that,” Blaine says, and Kurt beats down the small glow he feels in his chest. _Stop it, heart. Just stop_ “It’s just...the principle of the thing. Alex and I were clear on that when we decided to go together. We’re just...fighting the _heteronormativity_ of it all.”_ _ _ _

____Kurt closes the refrigerator door, mozzarella and ricotta clutched in one hand, a triangle of parmesan in the other, his eyebrow raised. “Oh really, Mr. Google. Fighting the ‘heteronormative’ man, are we?”_ _ _ _

____“Shut up,” Blaine laughs, “you know what I’m saying, okay? It’s the point of the thing. I like boys. I’m not hiding it. Neither is Alex. We’re going together.”_ _ _ _

____Kurt opens a drawer and takes out the cheese grater, setting it on top of his mother’s glass lilac cutting board and smiles. “Yes, yes, I know. You know I know. I just worry about you, okay? I want everything to be as rosy and fabulous as you think it is. All the time. Alright?”_ _ _ _

____By the end his voice is quiet; serious, because he _does_ care about Blaine and his safety. He cares about Blaine more than he cares about any other thing in this world, save his father, and he just-_ _ _ _

____“I just want you to be safe, okay?” he says to Blaine’s silence._ _ _ _

____“I don’t think we’re having sex on the first date,” Blaine deadpans, his voice deep, low. “But I’ll make sure to keep that in mind.”_ _ _ _

____Kurt can _hear_ the taunt and he knows he shouldn’t rise to Blaine’s occasion but his ears are on _fire >.__ _ _ _

_____“OH MY GOD!”_ _ _ _ _

_____***_ _ _ _ _

_____Kurt’s not even ready to be up when his dad comes into his room early Saturday morning. Well, early for a high school freshman._ _ _ _ _

_____“Kurt? Buddy? I need you to wake up.” His dad’s voice, smelling of coffee, and right next to his face._ _ _ _ _

______What the…?_ _ _ _ _ _

_____He stretches, moves to accommodate his dad’s presence, and sits up, rubbing his eyes._ _ _ _ _

_____“Wha’ time is it?” Kurt asks, popping his back while his dad rubs at his shoulder-_ _ _ _ _

______Rubs at his shoulder?_ _ _ _ _ _

_____“Dad, what’s goin’ on?” He hates himself for sounding so sleepy and young but honestly, this is _not_ Burt Hummel behavior. He finally gets the sleep out of his eyes and really _looks_ at his dad, and it’s like a bucket of cold water. _ _ _ _ _

_____Kurt Hummel is no longer asleep._ _ _ _ _

_____“Jonathan Anderson called me a few minutes ago.” His dad just looks at him for a moment, letting the name drift through his brain, the last vestiges of slumber still filling his ears. When Kurt realizes who his dad’s referring to his chin lifts and his shoulders tighten, ready for the hit._ _ _ _ _

_____“And...dad, please just tell me what’s going on.” Kurt tries to sound as calm as possible, but the waiver on the last word betrays him._ _ _ _ _

_____“So, er,” his dad begins, trying to settle himself somewhere close to Kurt and failing miserably, both of them so used to their own space. “Last night Blaine went to a dance-”_ _ _ _ _

_____“Sadie Hawkins,” Kurt interjects, nodding._ _ _ _ _

_____“Yes, that one. When Linda went to pick him up last night he wasn’t where he said he’d be, Kurt, so she went looking for him and-”_ _ _ _ _

_____Kurt shivers, and for a moment he’s not in his bed and his dad’s telling him his mom has died. He shuts his eyes, hard, internally pushing his father to tell him, just break it to him that his best friend is dead, too. He loses focus, missing the end of his father’s sentence, because he’s there, all over again, watching his mom be buried and soon he’ll see _Blaine_ buried and he can’t quite handle that he thinks, but then his dad’s snapping his fingers in front of his nose and-_ _ _ _ _

_____“What?” Kurt asks, skin cold._ _ _ _ _

_____“I said and Blaine wants to talk to you. It’s all he asked for when he woke up in the hospital this morning.” His dad’s watching him closely, and Kurt has to resist the urge to bubble out laughter.  
“Wait, he’s not dead?”_ _ _ _ _

_____His dad’s face falls, and before Kurt knows it he’s gathered up in arms that stopped insisting on hugs since the beginning of middle school._ _ _ _ _

_____“No, son,” his dad’s muffled voice says, “He’s not dead. Jesus, Kurt, were you listening at all?”_ _ _ _ _

_____Kurt laughs, even though it might not be the right thing to do, and his forehead bounces lightly on his dad’s shoulder. “No, not really, I was just trying to get through it. Tell me again.”_ _ _ _ _

_____They pull apart and adjust themselves again, and Kurt notices tears in his dad’s eyes._ _ _ _ _

_____“I said Linda found him in the alley beside the gym with another boy. The other boy is still in intensive care, poor kid, but Blaine’s doing okay. He’s to be released later on today, but the first thing he asked for was to talk to you. His dad’s got his laptop at the hospital and they want to Skype. Says that Blaine’s older brother does it all the time. Do you have that? Jonathan gave me his cell number so we can call them when we’re ready. We’ll get anything you need.”_ _ _ _ _

_____Kurt can hardly believe his ears. Skype? From his dad?_ _ _ _ _

_____“Uh,” Kurt says, pulling himself out of bed, “I don’t think I have a webcam but you could-”_ _ _ _ _

_____“You get up and shower, buddy. I’ll run to the store.” His dad’s already moving, making his way for the hallway._ _ _ _ _

_____“Dad?” Kurt’s voice feels small, but he’s holding his own, ready to face this day for Blaine._ _ _ _ _

_____Burt turns in the doorway, his flannel shirt not even all the way buttoned, eyebrows raised._ _ _ _ _

_____“I love you so much, dad. Thanks.” Kurt flushes, not used to this connection. It’s always been there, he supposes, just elusive._ _ _ _ _

_____His dad’s face softens. “I love you too, kid.”_ _ _ _ _

_____***_ _ _ _ _

_____“So this is not how I was planning on seeing you for the first time,” Kurt deadpans, sure that Blaine doesn’t want him commenting on his appearance because _no >.__ _ _ _ _

______Kurt has to joke right now or he will seethe and rage right into the void of his webcam because Blaine is...well, Blaine has been well and truly beaten up. His eyes are almost swollen shut, and his upper and lower lips are split, the lower one in three places. He has a nasty black welt underneath his right eye that is starting to purple, and the left eye is already there. His right ear is swollen and at a sickly angle. His right arm is already casted at the wrist, and his chest is bound with bandages as well, peeking out of the top of his hospital gown, and Kurt grimaces as he’s reminded of old Tom and Jerry cartoons - a comparison he wouldn’t have chosen._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I had to get you to talk to me face-to-face somehow,” Blaine says, but it’s strained; sadness hanging on the words in thick ropes._ _ _ _ _ _

______“So...” _Who beat the shit out of you?_ “How did we end up here?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Blaine sighs, his face contorting as the air fills his bruised ribs. Kurt’s dad had called Blaine’s parents and they had filled him in. Ribs, broken wrist, contusions to the face. All able to heal._ _ _ _ _ _

______On the outside._ _ _ _ _ _

______“So you know how brave me and Alex are?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Kurt nods, encouraging._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Well, that doesn’t sit too well with some of the older boys, I guess. Or maybe one of the boys who I jump with who talked to another boy. Or maybe it was someone’s mom or dad that felt like it was a problem. Fuck, Kurt, it could be anyone who had a problem with Alex and me and what we decided to do. I-” Kurt’s heart breaks as Blaine’s voice does, and he reaches out to touch the screen. “Is it really so bad, Kurt? Who I am? Who _we_ are? What did-” he sniffs, tears leaking from his already puffed-out eyes. “I didn’t ever do _anything_ to them, right?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Kurt’s holding back his own tears, squeezing his forearms tight under his desk where Blaine can’t see. Staying strong for both of them._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Do you want me to send you Paddington?” Kurt asks, offering up the bear to the screen. “Because he um, he really really knows how to make a guy feel better.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Apparently this is the action that breaks Blaine. Kurt watches as he just covers his eyes with his left hand, hiding from Kurt for the moment._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Maybe this wasn’t the best idea-” Blaine begins, but Kurt breaks in._ _ _ _ _ _

______“No. No, it’s okay. You know I don’t care what you look like, Blaine, I just want to help and...see you okay, in front of me.” Kurt can’t help it, he’s crying, and he pulls Paddington back for a hug, a mirror of years ago._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I just wanted to talk to you because you _know_ , you know? You know why they did this and I haven’t told mom and dad yet, or Cooper, and that’s going to be a whole other layer to this. Dad is already so pissed off - he didn’t say it to me, but I can see it.” Blaine sighs and takes his hand off his face, opening his eyes as much as he can. “What if...”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Blaine trails off, averting his eyes, and Kurt just waits, feeling in his gut that talking would lock Blaine’s thoughts back up for a long time to come._ _ _ _ _ _

______He holds Paddington, stroking his fur with his thumbs, waiting._ _ _ _ _ _

______“What if they are mad at me because I got myself hurt?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Kurt’s vision swims as heat races along his spine and through his arms to his fingertips, and in that moment he has never known such anger as that he feels towards the boys who did this to Blaine._ _ _ _ _ _

______“NO,” he barks, too loud, and Blaine jumps, shaking the bed. Kurt quiets, holding his hands out in calming._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I mean, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell,” he watches Blaine relax, frown on his face. “I just don’t want you ever, _ever_ , to think that this was your fault. You did _nothing_ wrong. NOTHING. You are the victim here, but don’t think that means I’m going to let you blame yourself. You’re too strong for that.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Blaine nods, but he’s crying again._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I wish you were here.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______So quiet Kurt can barely hear them, the words bounce around inside his head like a curse._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I do, too, Blaine.” Kurt reaches out and puts his hand on the screen, willing his comfort over the thousands of miles that separate them, and something hard lodges itself in his throat when Blaine does the same. “What now?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Now I let you go and talk to mom and dad. I already talked to the police, but I asked them to wait outside and promised them answers after I talked to you. I think they agreed because they thought I was still a little under from the meds.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Kurt doesn’t want to go, feels the flare of a whiney argument in his throat. He beats it down, knowing it’s not what’s best for Blaine._ _ _ _ _ _

______“So are we going to talk like this some more? Because of your injuries?” Kurt speaks delicately, backing down and letting Blaine have room to take control._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Yes, and it’s because it’s cooler, not because I look like I lost the directions in a revolving door.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Kurt laughs out loud, surprising himself, because the image of Blaine in his head, banging into the walls of a revolving door, are both hilarious and completely inappropriate given the situation._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I love you, you idiot.” Kurt giggles, catching himself off guard._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Oh, noooo,” Blaine whines, “Don’t profess your love for me in a hospital. It’s so _cliche_ , Kurt, _god_.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______They both laugh, and it’s good to see - Blaine may be hurt, but he’s not broken, not if Kurt has anything to say about it._ _ _ _ _ _

______***_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Wow, you look so beautiful!” Kurt sing-songs, smiling even though he wants to cry._ _ _ _ _ _

______Blaine’s face is a blotchy purplish thing, but at least Kurt got him to smile._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Yeah, I’ll be walking runways in no time flat,” Blaine adjusts his wrist on the pillow and sets his glass of water down with his left hand. “-and my parents will support me.” He keeps smiling, and Kurt breathes out a sigh of relief, his shoulders sagging as the weight that built up overnight slides silently off and away._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Tell me what happened?” Kurt’s sitting at his desk and so he pulls his legs up into a criss-cross; his elbows on the top._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Okay,” Blaine breathes, “So I let you go and my mom came in and moved the laptop to the extra bed in the room and then she sat next to me and I told her I needed to talk to her and dad about the attack and then they closed the door and just listened as I talked for awhile. I told them everything - right from telling you at the beginning until now, and then my mom just hugged me and my dad said, “It’s no different than before; I’ll still expect any future suitors to be worthy of everything you are, Blaine.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“That is the best thing I have ever heard, Blaine.” Kurt beams._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Yeah,” Blaine replies, moving around on his bed to get more comfortable and jostling the computer. “I cried and they cried and then my dad apologized because he was angry all over again, but this time he had a focus, you know?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Kurt is quiet for a moment, gathering his thoughts on this. _They’ll never figure it out, will they?__ _ _ _ _ _

______“Any leads on who did this?” Kurt looks into Blaine’s face when he says this, determined to find out whatever he needs. Blaine looks at his comforter, though, his face still._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Nah,” he says, picking at his cast. “and I don’t think they’ll find them. They didn’t really leave anything behind and I don’t think they want to be found. Alex woke up later in the day yesterday and my mom went to see his mom. She said that his parents knew he was going with me, so they were way ahead of where my parents were. His parents are thinking of pulling him out and putting him into private school, but they’re moving to San Francisco so it won’t be wherever my parents put me.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Kurt cocks his head. “You’re leaving your school?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Blaine nods and sighs. “And I’m quitting polo and riding for now.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Kut’s mouth falls open and he honestly can’t stop it. Hundreds of letters and emails, so many of them mentioning riding and polo and how much of Blaine’s life they are._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Wh-”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“It’s for now and it’s the best thing for me to do. I don’t want to go back to the team, I don’t want to ride anything other than Diablo, and I don’t trust anyone there right now. Maybe...maybe in the future, but not right now.” Blaine’s tone is final; his mouth a solemn line._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I support that, Blaine. If it’s what you think is best for you right now.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“I do.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Kurt just looks for a moment, disregarding Blaine’s physical injuries while looking at his body language. His arms are still open, his shoulders back. He does not look defeated - rather, he is radiating grim determination, something Kurt wishes he wouldn’t _need_ to see._ _ _ _ _ _

______“So what now?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“So I have a tutor for the next few weeks while mom and dad try to get me into Catlin Gable. My mom went there when she was younger and my parents had thought about putting both me and Cooper through there but then decided against it when Cooper was in middle school. Everyone-” Blaine stops and stares at a point beyond Kurt, not really looking at him. “-everyone loved Cooper, you know?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Kurt sighs and fidgets in his chair._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Everyone loves you, too, okay? Just focus on getting better for now and-”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“That’s just it!” Blaine erupts, sitting up despite his injuries, then biting his lip in pain. “I don’t _want_ to focus on getting better! I shouldn’t HAVE to be getting BETTER, Kurt! I should be...should be fucking OUT THERE. Riding Diablo and just, I-”_ _ _ _ _ _

______He shuts down then, scowling at his comforter._ _ _ _ _ _

______The words hit Kurt, hard, like a physical punch to his chest, and he flounders. His rational mind says Blaine is in pain, and not just the kind he can see, but Kurt’s heart just _hurts_ at being yelled at. He breathes in, counting slowly in his mind, until the cerebral part wins out._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I’m glad you can trust me enough to yell at me,” he says, thinking back on all the times his dad had said this when he was younger, understanding it now._ _ _ _ _ _

______Blaine shakes, his anger at war with his sadness, and Kurt watches, unable to help, to soothe. So he waits._ _ _ _ _ _

______Waits._ _ _ _ _ _

______After some amount of time, some unfathomable battleground in Blaine’s mind winds down and he speaks again, not looking at Kurt, but not yelling, either._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Thank you so much.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“You’re welcome, Blaine.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______***_ _ _ _ _ _

______It doesn’t take long to get to the spot._ _ _ _ _ _

______When Cooper was still here and Blaine could ride his shoulders all the way to the retaining wall it always felt like forever to get there._ _ _ _ _ _

______The Brothers’ Spot. That’s what Cooper had called it, with majesty draped on the words with all the pride he could muster. Blaine would laugh at his boastful words, but secretly revel in the fact that he and Cooper had a _spot_. _ _ _ _ _ _

______Now it’s quieter, the November wind biting at the back of his neck where his scarf’s slipped, turkey and stuffing hanging heavy in both their stomachs when they reach the retaining wall. It’s nothing special; on the contrary it’s an old, crumbling wall, replete with moss and various lichen in the summer. Now, though, the moss is dry and curling, its luster long lost, and all the trees have lost their leaves._ _ _ _ _ _

______The wall is quiet but for the rushing of the river below, burbling and belching with the rain of the last few weeks, and no one is out to use the bridge that solidly stands over it, guarding the leftover boulders below it. Cooper swings a leg over the wall, straddling it, and then swings over the other, feet dangling over the scattered stones of the shore thirty feet below. He pats the concrete next to him and eyes Blaine, eyebrow raised._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Care to join me?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Blaine thinks of laughing, would usually laugh at the jaunty drawl in Cooper’s tone, but he really hasn’t found it in him to laugh the past few weeks. Instead he steadies himself with his left hand and sits, easing his legs over the side of the wall and then settling his casted wrist in his lap._ _ _ _ _ _

______They’re quiet for a moment, watching the river climb over itself to get to wherever it’s going, and he looks straight down. It’s not a ridiculous height - maybe 25 feet - but as a child he had never thought about falling. Today, though, it’s all he can think about. Falling, re-breaking his wrist, his ribs; re-blackening his eyes and starting the process all over. It’s a scenario that is so appealing he shivers, glad for the cold to mask the motion, because _who thinks like that_ and _why_?_ _ _ _ _ _

______“What’s goin’ on in that Blainer brain, huh?” Cooper asks, tone light but face so serious Blaine could cry. Cooper is never serious. Ever. Unless it’s about _Cooper_._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Nothing. Tryptophan haze.” Blaine smiles, but he knows it’s awkward; misplaced._ _ _ _ _ _

______“You do know that that is a load of bullshit, right? You would need to eat like, seventy pounds of turkey or something. Now spill.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______And this time, Cooper’s not laughing._ _ _ _ _ _

______Blaine looks down and his vision wavers, his fingers digging into the crumbling concrete._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I don’t even know, Cooper.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Cooper scoots over, knocking loose stones over the ledge to be lost in the tall grass._ _ _ _ _ _

______“You know I started at Catlin and I like the classes. It’s nice being in an advanced French class that is actually challenging. I, um, met a few friends.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Guys?” Cooper asks, completely unfazed at the implication._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Yeah, guys, Coop, jeez. But girls, too. I met this girl who’s from the Philippines like our Lola. Her name is Grace and her parents came here the year before she was born. The guys I’ve met are in the acapella group I joined.” Blaine says the last part quietly. “I love singing, Cooper, and it helps take the place of...other stuff.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Cooper is nodding, watching the river ebb and flow._ _ _ _ _ _

______“And what about Kurt?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Blaine doesn’t turn his head, just his eyes slide to the right to look, to see if Cooper has judgement on his face._ _ _ _ _ _

______He hasn’t talked to Kurt in three weeks, since the day after the...attack, since Blaine had been so rude. He doesn’t know how to say he’s sorry; doesn’t know how to make it right. At first it was only a few days, but then he had started school again and had to learn his schedule and his teachers, and the workload of a private prep school and now? Now it feels like it’s been too long; like Kurt could have assumed too much about his silence._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I don’t know how to fix it, Coop.” He’s going for light, but his voice betrays him, deep and dripping sorrow._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Just call, Blaine. Skype. Hell, write him a letter like you used to, but this isn’t fair to him, man. He’s been your friend since forever and even _I_ can see how important that kid has been to you and I’ve been away for most of your life.” Cooper claps him on the shoulder and then pulls his legs up and climbs back over, his knees level with the wall. “Think about it.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Blaine nods one last time and Cooper goes, leaving Blaine with his thoughts, the only sound the rushing river and Blaine’s heels against the stone as his legs swing and bend._ _ _ _ _ _

______***_ _ _ _ _ _

______His dad’s in the kitchen clearing away some late-night pie when the phone rings._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I’ll get it, dad!” Kurt calls, moving slowly as not to disturb the decidedly too-much Thanksgiving digesting in his swollen stomach. He clears the threshold to the living room when his dad’s phone starts mechanically speaking out the phone number._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Caller: 1-5-0-3...”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Kurt stops, his hand inches from the cordless phone._ _ _ _ _ _

_______Blaine_._ _ _ _ _ _

______He wets his lips, feeling the cartoon caricature with two entities fighting , one next to each ear. _Pick it up, he’s calling. No! No way! Make him wait like you have, worrying, wondering. But this is Blaine!__ _ _ _ _ _

______The phone dock picks up, his own voice loud and clear through the house._ _ _ _ _ _

_______“Hello, you’ve reached the Hummel Residence, home of Burt and Kurt! Leave us a message and we’ll get back to you!_ _ _ _ _ _ _

______It’s quiet a moment and then-_ _ _ _ _ _

_______”Kurt? It’s me, I mean it’s Blaine. And this is...I mean, I’m sorry that I haven’t-”_ _ _ _ _ _ _

______Kurt picks up the phone, his finger hesitating a moment before hitting the ‘talk’ button._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Blaine?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Oh thank god, Kurt, I think I was having a heart attack.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Kurt hums, a sharp acknowledgement._ _ _ _ _ _

______“So, I just...” Blaine starts and then stops, and Kurt affords him no mercy. He’s laid up in bed too many nights wondering if his best friend _isn’t_ anymore. Wondering if Blaine hurt himself _no, no his parents would have called_ or if he was injured again. Wondering if he moved schools or if he had misjudged and said all the wrong things and ruined something more precious to him than he had even known until it _wasn’t there_._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Skype in five minutes?” Blaine implores._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Okay.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Kurt hangs up._ _ _ _ _ _

______***_ _ _ _ _ _

______Blaine can tell he has a lot to make up for._ _ _ _ _ _

______Kurt’s sitting across from him - well, kind of - with his arms crossed, a blank look on his face. And his eyes are looking anywhere but Blaine._ _ _ _ _ _

______“So.” Blaine muses. “You’re pretty angry with me.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Kurt’s eyes widen and his head swivels, eyes blue fire and locked on Blaine’s own._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Angry?” Kurt echos. “Anger would imply that I am such a simple creature that I would discount all of the events of the last month and focus on merely my own needs. I am so, _so_ much more than angry, Blaine. But okay. We can start with that one if you want.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Blaine takes a deep breath._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I am so _fucking_ angry at you, Blaine,” Kurt hisses, and Blaine doesn’t even think to make their usual joke. “But not just for not talking to me for weeks. It’s because I _care_ about you, you idiot! I _care_ about if you have gone to your new school! I _care_ about how well you’re healing and I _care_ about whether or not I totally screwed up our friendship by trying to make you do something you maybe didn’t want to do! I-”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Kurt’s seething, his breath coming in little gasps, and Blaine’s skin prickles as his eyes tear, watching his best friend hurt and fight with himself, with his own feelings because of _Blaine_._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I’m so sorry, Kurt, I just-”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“No!” Kurt blasts. “I’m not finished! I care, okay? You’re so...so important to me, Blaine, and I can’t just be shut out like that again! I...feel...I feel like I deserve more than that. Like _we_ deserve that after so long, so many jokes and secrets and...LIFE? Right? Don’t we? Because I thought we did and I just worried so _much_ , Blaine.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______And Blaine feels it, all of it, as Kurt wipes stubbornly at his eyes across from him. So far from him._ _ _ _ _ _

______“It was...so hard to face you after being so mean. After embarrassing myself and being-” Blaine cuts off, his own breath shuddery in his lungs. “And being so vulnerable. Needing you. You were the first thing I needed when I woke up, you know? Because you knew me - you know me - and you still, you know, want to know me. Even now that they did this and I ran from them and-”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“You didn’t run from anyone, Blaine.” Kurt counters, his face soft, young. “You just made a choice to be free. To live happier. I will never judge that. Ever. You deserve to be safe.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Blaine taps his cast on the desk and finally smiles, just a little._ _ _ _ _ _

______“See?” he marvels. “You know exactly how to see it - how to say it - in a way that doesn’t make me feel like a coward or a child; like I failed a test I didn’t even know I was taking. It’s not a pity-party or-” Blaine chokes off, his own demons being stamped out, one by one, as he talks. “-or me being not enough. It’s that I deserve better.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Yes,” Kurt murmurs. “You do.”_ _ _ _ _ _


	5. 9th Grade

 

 

Kurt smiles to himself and locks his phone, shaking his head.

_Blaine Anderson, god._

He’s walking through the hallway of McKinley, focusing his thoughts back to the halls - there could be a slushie at any time, a fact he lamented long and often to Blaine as he scrubbed and soaked shirts in the basin, speakerphone a godsend now that Blaine had his own cell phone.

He’s going to sign up for Glee Club today.

He had seen the sign last week, before Blaine had even _started_ classes and was still in the Bahamas with his grandparents. He had waited not-so-patiently for Blaine to come home and make the decision with him.

In the end there wasn’t much to lose - he already gets slushies and tossed into the dumpster on a weekly, if not daily, basis. Why not add Glee to the mix, too?

Which is how he finds himself in front of the sign-up sheet, putting his name on the list, and planning his audition piece.

***

***  
“She wears sweaters with animals knitted into them, Blaine.”

Blaine laughs and keeps writing in his algebra notebook, working out the problem easily while Kurt rants away from over his French homework. He’s lying on his stomach on the floor of his room, and Kurt’s doing the same, and it feels like it always does - like home.

“How do you conjugate exécuter into past perfect?” Kurt inquires, making Blaine laugh.

“Really, Kurt? You’re a sophomore and I’m just a lowly peon fresh-”

“Just tell me, jerk.”

Blaine glances up from his problems, the solution only the beginning of the thing as he has to _explain his thinking_ , thank you Mrs. Sweet.

“Oh, now, name calling will get you nowhere, you know. I need love, Kurt. LOVE is what makes this brain tick.” Blaine waggles his eyebrows, hoping Kurt takes the bait.

“Love is many a splendored thing! Love lifts us up where we belong - all you need is love!” Kurt giggles out, and Blaine has a moment, just a moment, where he wants to kiss that laughing mouth and make Kurt _see_ but-

“Please, don’t start that again,” Blaine replies, looking appropriately miffed. “I do believe you need to ask nicely for a conjugation...”

“Oh, okay, so quoting Moulin Rouge when you obviously wanted me to wasn’t enough? Fine, FINE, you big baby.” Kurt takes a deep breath and says, quite seriously: “Mr. Blaine Anderson, kind sir and _incredibly_ intelligent freshman, please be so kind as to conjugate ‘run’ for me into past perfect so I can get my damned homework done.”

“J'eus exécuté, and oh my god, _language_ , Mr. Hummel.”

When Kurt laughs it’s pretty much the best thing. Ever.

They work in silence for awhile, the occasional question between them as someone wants another verb conjugated and someone else wants to read his math thinking aloud. After some time Blaine breathes out and starts up the conversation again.

“So what are you doing this weekend?” Blaine grins, finishing his last sentence with a flourish. “Will there be any _Finn_ sightings?”

Finn is...new. Finn is, apparently, the best thing since rainbows and kittens, with his quarterback boringness and his apparently cute face. Since Kurt’s been in Glee club Blaine kind of wants to point out all the dumb things about Finn but-

“Well,” Kurt says, closing his notebook and stretching like a cat, making Blaine’s ears burn. “Believe it or not, Mercedes Jones and I - she’s the one who can just belt out the most amazing notes, Blaine, honestly - we’re going to go shopping together because I think-” Blaine watches as Kurt bites his lip, thinking. “-I think we’re going to be friends. It’s so weird. Last year was so _lonely_ and I think...well, I don’t want to think about it in case it doesn’t happen, you know, but Tina Cohen-Chang is coming, too. She stutters but she’s really nice.”

Blaine smiles, and it’s genuine. His friendships with Grace and Jeremy had become so strong after moving to Catlin last year that he and Kurt had had more than a few tense conversations, some ending in a few days of silence where one just couldn’t understand the other, until Kurt had come out and explained his jealousy and loneliness. It was one thing, he had said, to know that Blaine had an easier time making friends than he did. It was a completely different story when Blaine started breaking their Skype dates to go camping with Jeremy’s family, or when he was supposed to call Kurt and then forgot because he went to the movies with Grace.

Kurt had finally just broken down and said he didn’t realize how lonely he really was at McKinley without Blaine around to confide in. That he _adored_ Blaine’s friends, who sometimes sat in on their Skype meetups, but he felt incredibly left out and could Blaine remember that sometimes and allow for Kurt time again?

And Blaine absolutely could - and did.

“I’m so happy for you, Kurt. I’m sure this is like...like a new beginning for you, with New Directions-”

“Don’t say it out loud, Blaine, I swear to god Mr. Schue wasn’t thinking when he came up with it.”

Blaine mouths the words to himself and then his eyes shoot up to Kurt, whose face has gone a deep blush.

“THAT IS SO AMAZING!” he laughs, and Kurt falls over, overcome with giggles.

***

***

The light is peeking through the blinds when Blaine wakes, slanting across his eyes like a warming alarm. He groans and flips himself over, burrowing into the covers and reaching out, fumbling for the phone on his nightstand.

When his palm remains empty he pushes himself up, chest barely hovering above the bed, until he sees it, dark and dead on the floor.

 _Shit,_ his groggy brain mumbles, _Must've fallen asleep waiting for Kurt to call._

He reaches low, unwilling to actually sit up and crawl out of bed, making unintelligible sleepy sounds until his hand closes around the phone and he brandishes it above his head in triumph.

He slides himself back into his cocoon, snagging his phone cord on the way and plugging it in, laying his head back down until it's ready to turn on.

_I wonder if Kurt called...if he had a good time..._

His brain's betraying him, thinking of Kurt when he first wakes and then again right before bed. It's starting to be awkward and he doesn't quite know what to do about it.

He cracks his eyes and looks at his phone, pressing the power button for a test. The screen glows bright, starting up, and he smiles while waiting for the notifications to roll in. In they come, but curiously, there are no missed texts, just three missed calls and three voicemails.

Strange.

He checks the missed calls: two from Kurt and one from an unknown number.

Some days he would just call Kurt back; ignore the missed calls, but something makes him listen first and this is what leads to his undoing.

He presses play on the first message.

 _”Heeeeeey, Blaine. I'm here with_ everybody _from Glee club and we're in Rachel's basement and I just wanted to tell you that I wish that you were here and that you're really nice and I wish that you were at my school and I'm sosososososo sorry that what happened happen to you because that's just realllyreallyreally not okay at all and-”_

The recording cuts off then, and Blaine grins. Kurt is...Kurt WAS actually drunk. For the first time, Blaine knows. He can't help chuckling to himself because, although he doesn't drink, some of his friends do and he has seen how ridiculous they are when they do it.

He checks the next message, the timestamp thirty minutes after the first.

_”Rachel TOOK MY PHONE and hung it UP, Blaine. She DID. She said I shouldn't talk to you right now because I might say things I would regret but BLAAAAINE, I wouldn't regret anything having to do with you. Because you're my oldest friend, Blaine. Remember THA?! I'm not the oldest person you know but yeah and now we've been friends so loooong Blaine but I just-”_

The message cuts out again and this time Blaine can't help but laugh out loud, knowing for sure that Kurt's friends took his phone for good that time. He's half sitting up when he presses play on the final message.

 _”Blaine!”_ Blaine laughs at Kurt's overaniunciated whisper and wonders where his best friend made this message from, not 10 minutes later. _”I'm on Mercedes' phone in the BATHROOM. HA!”_ There it is and Blaine claps his hand over his mouth to listen to the rest. _”I needta make this quick because they're goin' to notice I'm gone but Blaine-”_ his tone dips low, lower than Blaine's ever heard it. _“-Finn wasn't my first crush on a boy, Blaine. It- it was you you you. Forever you. It's so harrrrrd,”_ Kurt's whining but low, and Blaine's mouth is open, stunned. _”And maybe it's weird because you are my best friend but because you are you won't be mad at me, right? No? Because I can't not have you Blaine because you're ‘loveyourbestfriendblaineanderson’ and I can't not have you.”_ Kurt stops for a moment and just breathes and Blaine thinks he's done but then-

_”I fantasize about you, but shhhh pretend I didn't say that. Shhh. Goddd-_

Kurt makes some sound then, a small whimpering sound that stops Blaine's heart and makes his mouth water, all the blood in his body rushing south, and then there's a thumping on the other line that reminds Blaine of when he used to be in the shower, and his brother needed to get to school.

_”Kurt! Give me that phone, boy, are you crazy?!_

This must be Mercedes.

_”Blaine, Blaine, I have to go but don't tell anyone it's so embarrassing and I don't want Bl- you to know, really, so...wait. No, nevermind, okay? Okay bye.”_

The message ends and Blaine just stares at his phone, so, so hard in his pajama pants.

The _sound_ that Kurt had made at the end- Blaine's heard it in the movies that he'd snuck when Cooper was younger – from both men and women, but never from a boy about _him_ and it might be the hottest thing that Blaine's ever _heard_.

He reaches down into his pants to adjust his erection, smoothing his fist down the shaft once, twice, and then he's not really adjusting because-

_I fantasize about you._

Blaine flops back onto the bed and groans into his pillow, taking a piece of it in his teeth while his right hand grinds down over his cock, a little rough but perfect as he replays that sound over and over-

He lets go of the pillow and grabs for his cell phone, guilt tugging uselessly at the edge of his brain while he replays the message, skipping almost to the end, to _the_ sound, and then speeds up his hand, milking his cock and aching to come.

_”-oh my godddd-_

Blaine whimpers and comes, Kurt's face twisted with pleasure in his head, as he splatters the sheets and his t-shirt.

***

It takes a couple hours for Blaine to call Kurt. He takes a shower and gets dressed, he works on his history homework and then shoves everything in his bag, wondering how.

 _How_ can he call Kurt now? When he’s done...used Kurt’s voice for...

 _But, > he muses, _Kurt said he does it, too.__ Which makes him uncomfortable in his jeans all over again.

He pulls up Skype and dials, getting the whole thing over with.

It only rings a few moments and then Kurt’s face is filling his screen.

“Oh my god, never again.”

Blaine smiles, bashful. “Okay, so what happened. I had a few calls on my phone...”

Blaine watches Kurt carefully, wondering what he remembers, as his best friend starts to laugh.

“I have no idea!” Kurt says, rolling his shoulders and rubbing at his elbows. “I know they stole my phone, and I know I called you twice but honestly, Blaine, I can’t remember a single thing we talked about. Care to help a poor, wretched idiot out?”

Kurt’s smiling, but Blaine can see he’s a little nervous and so-

“You never actually talked to me,” Blaine replies truthfully. “You got my voicemail because I fell asleep. Want me to play them for you?”

“Oh god, why not...” Kurt says, hiding his face. Blaine pulls up his messages, careful to keep his phone facing away from Kurt. There’s one he doesn’t want to share.

“Okay, so my favorite part of this one is the ‘heeeeeeeey’ at the beginning-”

Kurt groans and settles back against his pillows, and Blaine just can’t help but look, his imagination getting away from him. Kurt’s hair is still a mess, and he’s wearing a t-shirt and pajama pants - something Blaine _never_ sees. It’s just too much.

“Okay. I’m ready.” Kurt says, putting his hands just over his ears in anticipation.

“Ohhhh, no,” Blaine crowed. “There’s no covering of the ears here. You get to listen to it alll...”

***

“I’m lying on my bed, mourning.” Blaine says, and Kurt laughs as he settles back on his own bed, working slowly at his socks with his toes, trying to take them off without moving.

“It’s not that bad, you big baby.”

“But it _is_ , Kurt! We had...” Blaine pauses, knowing very well the plans they had had been as tenuous as a spider’s web. “We had the plan for a plan!”

Kurt groans and then smiles in triumph as his left sock lands somewhere on the floor by his bed, the toes of the same foot working quickly at the cuff of his right sock.

“Yes, but now I have a vehicle, Blaine, and it’s a _nice_ one. Someone traded it to dad for service because they lost some money somehow and now, after a few repairs, it’s _mine_. That has to count for something, right?” The right sock hits the floor and he stretches his toes wide.

Blaine harrumphs at him. “I still feel cheated.”

Kurt’s heart does a little twist in his chest. He _does_ feel badly that he used the money he had been saving to visit Blaine over spring break on the car. He does, but-

“At least next spring break - when you undoubtedly will have saved money to come _here_ \- I can drive you around in style.” Kurt soothes, convincing. “Think of it! ‘Visit Lovely Lima! Where the bullies are football players and the gay boys are numbering in the tens!’”

Blaine stops giggling as soon as he starts.

“Are they still giving you trouble?” he asks, voice sober. “I mean, even with your dad and Carole dating and Finn kind of being on your side?”

Kurt stares at his wall, eyes unfocused and making the greys blend together.

“I’ll take your silence for a yes,” Blaine pushes. “But I want you to know that I’ll listen every day if you need me to - or you can text me or whatever. You know this, right? I’m still here, even if I’m not _there_.”

“Thank you, Blaine.”

***


	6. 10th Grade

 

 

  


 

***

“So, Jeremy, Grace, Grace’s brother Jordan - who’s a sophomore at Portland State - and I are going out on Saturday night,” Blaine mentions, his tone a bit...off. “As an end-of-year-hooray-we’re-juniors thing.”

Kurt looks up from his trig notes, studying Blaine through the screen. He’s still laying there, Algebra 2 book looking quite familiar, but he’s not looking at Kurt and his ears are red.

“Blaine Devon, you look like you’re planning a crime; spill.”

Blaine bites his pencil and refuses to look at Kurt, mumbling something.

“What? Speak up, guilty one, I want to know exactly what I’m mocking you for.” Kurt chides, slapping his hand on his binder.

“We’re going to a gay club.”

Kurt feels his eyes widen.

“Like, a dance club? A _bar_?”

Blaine finally looks at him, sheepish, his cheeks aflame. “Yeah and they don’t card.”

Kurt taps his pencil against his lips, thinking a moment before speaking.

“You’re going to be safe, right? Like, someone’s going to be the DD? Because I don’t want to be up half the night worrying about you and...”

“Of course! Jordan is watching out for us. He says he’ll stop us at three drinks so he doesn’t have puke in his car, so...”

Kurt considers this, then smiles wide.

“So what are you wearing?”

***

***

“So Blaine’s going to call us in the next few minutes.” Kurt says, putting down his phone and opening up Skype.

“Ooooh, the _boy_ ,” Mercedes coos, and Tina nods vigorously in agreement. “We get to see him and hear him talk!”

Kurt blanches, throwing a pillow at her face.

“You _all_ need to behave,” he announces, eyebrow raised as if daring them to argue. “Especially you, Rachel, you have a tendency to blurt out whatever is in that brain of yours without thinking and I can’t risk that with Blaine.” His eyes soften and Rachel puts her arm around him.

“Are you going to tell him how you feel, Kurt? Like, ever?” she asks, eyeing the other girls, and he knows she’s looking for agreement. They do not disappoint.

“Honestly, Kurt, he might surprise you. Ya’ll spend a LOT of time together, I mean, together in the sense of texting and Skyping and-” Mercedes falters, looking to Tina for help.

“When you talk about him, Kurt, it’s like...” Tina pauses, looking toward the ceiling. “...like I do when I talk about Mike, I guess.”

Kurt sighs and slumps in Rachel’s arms, and Tina and Mercedes come to hold him, too.

“I am in love with my best friend, you guys. How much could I screw that one up, you know? He’s been there...like, forever. I can’t risk that, you know?” His head’s on Rachel’s shoulder, but it’s Mercedes who’s rubbing his back and Tina who speaks.

“But what if he feels the same way? How will either of you ever know?”

Kurt doesn’t have an answer, and then his Skype is alerting him to Blaine’s call.

“There he is! All three of you, _please_ behave!” he motions to them to sit on his bed, and accepts the call.

And promptly drops his jaw.

“Hi girls!” Blaine calls out, waving. “You must be Tina, Mercedes, and Rachel! Nice to meet you!”

  
The girls, for their part, keep their cool while Kurt tries ridiculously hard to pull himself together. They chatter to Blaine for a moment, introducing themselves grandly, while Kurt just breathes a moment.

He had picked out the outfit, for god’s sakes, but-

_He looks perfect, like oh my god, some boy is going to just snatch him up and-_

“So Kurt, how does it look?” Blaine’s eyes are on him, now, and he has to clear his throat.

“I mean, it looks fantastic because I picked it out, but who did your hair and...your eyes?”

A giggling redhead comes out of nowhere from the left side of the screen.

“Guilty! Hiiiiii Kurt,” Grace begins, but Blaine pushes her out of the frame, looking sheepish and rubbing the back of his neck.

“You don’t think the hair is too much? I mean, there’s still gel in it, but-”

Kurt’s eyes sweep up to Blaine’s curls, normally gelled in an almost protective helmet - especially since Sadie Hawkins - and can’t help but want to touch. Yes, it’s gelled but in fabulous ringlets that still look soft and a little tousled. But it’s the eyes. Blaine’s _eyes_ in black kohl liner that Kurt can’t stop looking at.

  
“You look fantastic, and the outfit is just as hot - er, you know, ‘Club Hot’ - as it was yesterday with those pants.” Kurt feels like he’s tripping over his tongue, and Mercedes gets up to stand beside him, gripping his hand under the desk. “I mean, you look great!”

Blaine smiles and it’s huge - all his teeth showing and his eyes bright, and Kurt could melt right into his desk chair. He _has_ to go.

“Hey Grace?” he croaks, then clears his throat. “ _Please_ make sure your brother doesn’t drink? Can you make sure you bring my best friend back in one piece?”

“Oh, he’s a piece all right,” she says from offscreen, and dark green venom blooms in Kurt’s gut; hot and possessive. “But I’ll make sure he’s okay. He has the rest of the summer to recover!”

Kurt groans.

“That’s not what I meant-”

“Oh, I know what you meant,” she replies, popping her head back into the frame. “But we have to go now so buh bye!”

Blaine waves and shouts a quick “I’ll be alright!” before the connection is broken by Grace, whose laughter is the last thing Kurt hears.

Kurt closes Skype and then swivels his chair to face Tina and Rachel as Mercedes lets go of his hand.

“He’s...” Tina begins, at the same time Rachel murmurs “That is _so_ not what I was expecting.”

“He doesn’t usually look like that!” Kurt exclaims, and then brings his voice down, not wanting to disturb his Dad and Carole downstairs. “I mean - that’s all...new.”

Mercedes pats his arm.

“Oh, honey. You are so _screwed_ tonight. We’re gonna help, baby, let’s watch some Titanic and drown your sorrows in some Kate and Leo because honey, you _need_ it.”

Kurt nods as Tina goes to the door, mumbling about popcorn.

“But those...those pants?” Rachel begins, shaking her head. “Did you honestly pick those pants because I thought that you _like_ him, right? Why would you send him to a club looking like that, though, because he is just _asking_ for boys to-”

Mercedes and Kurt both glare at her and speak at the same time. “Shut UP, Rachel!”

Kurt continues as Mercedes heads to her duffel bag, pulling out her pajamas as she shakes her head.

“I wasn’t thinking, apparently, because...because...”

“Because he looks like sex?” Rachel supplies primly, her hands on her knees.

“Oh my god, Rachel.” Kurt exclaims, heading for his dresser. “Please stop, you’re just making it worse.”

“I just know I would climb that like-”

“RACHEL!”

***

 _You make me this,_  
Bring me up,  
Bring me down,  
Playing sweet,  
Make me move like a freak,  
Mr. Saxobeat.

“I love this song!” Grace screams over the music, trying to make Blaine hear. He nods and shakes his hips, sweet slide of grenadine on his tongue from the Dirty Shirleys Jordan had ordered them. He can’t stop moving, his black t-shirt soaked through at the neck, his already tight jeans sticking at his crotch and the backs of his knees.

He doesn’t care.

His brain is a muddled haze, the beat of the music his only ligature to the crowd around him. He’s never been drunk, but he knows he must be at least partially there, and his hips can’t stop - won’t stop, because the music is beating through him, sweating out of him and making him move, undulating with the crowd as his friends laugh and cheer beside him.

And then, there’s a boy.

Some tall, faceless boy with eyes that shine blue in the strobes, and he could swear it’s Kurt for just a moment, and all Blaine hears in that split second is Kurt’s gritted, gutted _’oh my god_ and he’s letting himself be led into an embrace, touched and held, and then, sudden hot and molded sun-bright, kissed.

***

***

Kurt’s words are tight; clipped. He knows it’s not fair, but for the moment his carefully stone-carved facade is all that’s keeping him from crying.

 _His_ first kiss had been forced from him in a rank locker room, teeming with body odor and sweatsocks. Blaine’s had been on a dancefloor where he looked like every boy’s - _and girl’s_ , Kurt thinks - dream.

Of course he wanted to share it with Kurt. _Of course_. Because that’s what best friends do, right? He could laugh until he cried, honestly, but right now he’s focused on doing what he does best - being Blaine’s friend.

“Uuuugh, god. Please remind me what I said because those drinks were pure vodka, I swear, and I can’t look right now.” Blaine sounds terrible, he really does, but Kurt just kind of wants to kick his ass, so-

“You made out with a boy on the dancefloor and you were drunk. Did I miss anything?”

Dead silence.

“Um,” Blaine begins. “No, I really don’t think so.”

They both fall silent again, a quiet curtain of uncertainty falling between them, and Kurt fervently hopes Blaine doesn’t feel it like he does, choking him and cutting into his heart with the strength of a lion.

“Was he nice?” Kurt finally queries, holding his breath for the answer. It feels like time is moving so slowly, thawing sap in winter trees, until finally Blaine speaks.

“I don’t know.”

***

“It’s been so weird since club night, Grace, and I have no idea how to make it better.”

Blaine catches his uniform shirt on a hanger as he puts his laundry away, fiercely jabbing the arms onto the plastic and buttoning the collar and then turning back to the laundry basket.

“I mean, I was honest with him, and told him about that kid who kissed me, but he just shut down after that and it’s been so...not the same.”

He listens to her speak a moment, his cell phone lodged between his chin and shoulder. He’s nodding to himself as he listens, sweeping up a mass of matched socks to put in his drawer.

“Yeah, I know. He just worries about me, but what if it’s more than that, Grace? What if...oh god, this is so stupid, but what if he likes me too, still?” He slams the drawer shut and turns to his door, jumping at the sight of his mother standing there. “I’ll have to call you back,” he says over Grace’s protests. “Mom’s here.”

“What’s up?” he asks, hoping beyond hope that she hadn’t heard too much of his previous conversation.

“Your father and I need to have a talk with you,” his mom explains. “Come downstairs when your laundry is all put away.” She’s smiling, some small secret smile, and Blaine’s reminded of the Mona Lisa.

Blaine listens.

***

At 5:45pm on a Friday afternoon Burt Hummel would normally be home, cracking a beer, and giving Carole his first kiss of the weekend. Today, however, his day’s run late and he just wants to get home. The last car in the shop was just picked up, late again, by Steve Anderson at 404 Oak Street, and so he’s there for the ringing phone.

Which he shouldn’t answer, but-

“Hummel’s Tires and Lube, Burt Hummel speaking.”

“Mr. Hummel? It’s Blaine Anderson, you know, Kurt’s friend?”

Burt holds the phone away from his ear a moment to give it a look before responding.

“Why are you calling here, kid? Kurt’s not workin’ today, he’s at home. I’m sure you could get him on his cell, too-”

“-I actually wanted to talk to you, Mr. Hummel, and I didn’t want to call the house because I don’t want Kurt to know I called.”

Burt raises an eyebrow. “Oh really? So now that you’ve got me, what’s up?”

He hears Blaine pull in a loud breath.

“Well...”

***

***

“So do you even know how far you’re driving tomorrow?” Kurt asks, honestly wondering. He’s been working hard all summer to forgive Blaine for something Blaine isn’t even aware of, and so asking about his move seems the safest thing. “It seems so weird that your parents won’t tell you where you’re moving and yet you have to drive there.”

Blaine chuckles though the phone. They’re both in bed, the lights out and night sounds creeping in through open windows. Blaine had told Kurt long ago that one of his favorite things was warm nights and a cool breeze through a late-summer screen.

“I still don’t know, but that’s fine. I see it as an adventure and we’re caravaning so it’s not like I’m gonna get lost. Cooper’s here and he’s driving the moving van, I’ll be behind him, and mom and dad will be in their cars behind me. The house is empty, except the three air mattresses and some clothes. We’re even eating breakfast on the road tomorrow morning.” Blaine replies, sleep heavy in his voice, and Kurt could truly listen to him forever.

Since the club he’s begun a mental list of sorts, tallying up the moments of his life that are happier because of Blaine. It’s overwhelming, the amount of joy Kurt has collected over time with this boy, and some stupid thing like a crush is not going to get in his way.

Blaine’s too important.

“Sounds like fun, though. How many days until you get to your destination?” Kurt moves, unwrinkling his pajama pants and getting a more comfortable position.

“Three days,” Blaine answers. “So I’ll be at my new house on Thursday. I should be able to call you Friday morning sometime because we’re gonna be on the road and then need to unload when we get there, you know?”

“Well,” Kurt replies, eyes drooping, “I’ll be here because Dad asked me this morning if I would hang around the house. He’s expecting a package that needs to be signed for and Carole has to work. Ugh. Boring day, and everyone else is somewhere finishing their summer stuff, I guess.”

He hears Blaine hum his agreement. “I’m gonna miss talking to you for the next few days.”

Kurt’s heart speeds up, and he could say it, could take the opening, but-

“But then you’ll be back and we can talk some more, even though I start school on Monday.”

“Yeah.” Blaine says, drowsy and soft. “I’m falling asleep on you, Kurt. I should go.”

 _I’d love you to fall asleep on me, Blaine._ “So go. It’s okay. I’ll be here when you get there.”

“I’m sure of it,” Blaine says. “Love you, Kurt.”

Kurt bites his tongue, his throat threatening to close up and his eyes wet. “Love you, Blaine, have fun.”

***

As fate would have it, Kurt wakes up early on Friday morning. He hadn’t tried to go to bed early, it had just happened. Without Blaine to talk to, he didn’t have any reason to wait and his eyes had gotten heavier and heavier as he watched Never Been Kissed. Somewhere between Rob enrolling and Josie spilling her secret he had fallen asleep sprawled on the couch.

He’s just finishing morning skincare, still in his softest pajama pants and t-shirt, when the doorbell rings.

“Wow, they weren’t kidding about it arriving today,” he says aloud. He glances at the hall clock as he makes his way to the door, its hands registering eight ten am.

His bare feet pad against the linoleum by the front door and he has a fleeting thought about socks as he turns the knob and pulls.

“Hi.”

Kurt’s pretty sure he’s hallucinating - or is still on the couch and dreaming - because the delivery person is Blaine.

Blaine actually in front of him, in khaki shorts and a red-and-blue polo shirt.

And boat shoes.

_Who wears boat shoes?_

“Um...hi?”

Blaine laughs, then, and makes a gesture toward the door and Kurt just backs up, unable to form words.

Blaine steps in and removes his shoes and then both boys just stand there, Blaine with his hands in his pockets and a tentative smile; Kurt with a jaw he just can’t get to close.

“You’re here!”

Blaine takes a step toward him. “I am. And I have to admit something, actually.”

Kurt runs his fingers through his hair, thoroughly mussing it, but he doesn’t even notice. All he can see is Blaine’s face and his hair and his _smile_ , lord...

“Oh?” Kurt cringes when his voice breaks, but Blaine keeps going as if he doesn’t notice.

“Yeah, so there’s no package.” Blaine says, and bites the side of his lip in a way that makes Kurt really, really wish he had actual pants on. “And...and I knew where I was moving all summer, but I thought it would be a much better surprise if I just...showed up? And your dad kind of agreed, so...”

Kurt catches up.

“WAIT. YOU MOVED TO OHIO?! TO LIMA?!” He yells, hopping up and down despite himself. He can’t help it, just like he can’t help the smile spreading across his face.

Blaine nods, his gelled hair bouncing with his excitement.

“Wait,” Kurt says, holding up his hand. “And my DAD knows?”

Blaine looks down, sheepish. “Uh, yeah, and he kind of talked to my dad about real estate and he made sure you were here and...and that the girls were busy today so you had to stay home.” He looks up again and Kurt just beams.

His best friend is...

“You are an asshole.”

Blaine drops his jaw in mock horror. “Kurt Hummel! Language!”

Kurt walks over and smacks Blaine’s arm.

“That’s for tricking me, jerk,” Kurt says, then, hesitating only a moment, he wraps his arms around Blaine’s torso and hugs him. Blaine stands stunned a moment, and then relaxes, settling his arms around Kurt’s waist.

“And this-,” he holds onto Blaine, unable to make his arms let go. “- is for surprising me.”

Kurt takes a chance and lowers his head onto Blaine’s shoulder, drinking him in. He wants to bury his face in Blaine’s neck and cry; cry for the years of wondering what it’d be like to hug him, cry for the chance to finally see him in person, cry for the what-ifs swirling in his brain at the moment because _Blaine_. He smells like...like cardboard boxes and early-morning wind, actually, and he wonders how long Blaine’s been up.

“Wait!” Kurt exclaims, and he crosses to the hall again and scampers down the hall to throw the front door wide open. “A HA! VIVIAN!” The volvo sits in his driveway, dust-covered and still full of boxes in the back.

As he closes the door, Blaine comes up behind him.

“I was moving boxes all last night with mom, dad, and Cooper just to find some clothes to wear this morning. I barely slept, really, because I knew I was going to see you, but I had to wait until it seemed at least _somewhat_ likely that you’d be getting a package.”

Kurt feels giddy to bursting, and he can’t stop smiling.

“And,” Blaine continues, “I have to go back home in an hour because mom says, and I quote, _we need your help, Blaine Devon, before we lose you to Kurt forever_.”

Kurt’s smile breaks, and he gives Blaine the eyebrow and an ‘all-business’ air as he turns and pulls at Blaine’s hand.

“Well, let me give you the grand tour, then.”

***

Blaine’s hands won’t stop sweating.

He’s sitting in Kurt’s room, on Kurt’s _bed_ , while Kurt shows him pictures and points out things in his room that reflect so much Kurt-ness that Blaine could just lay back on the bed and giggle with happiness.

But he’s not.

Because it’s _Kurt’s bed_ and he’s on it, and _oh my god_ he is freaking out.

He had been okay with walking around Kurt’s house, seeing his Dad’s room, Finn’s, the living room, the garage. But when they had inevitably ended up in Kurt’s room, it’s like every single thought about Kurt’s mouth and body and hair and heart and fucking _soul_ had skyrocketed to the forefront of Blaine’s brain and all he can see is Kurt’s lips and his _ass_ in those pajama pants and he doesn’t even know what to _do_ because Kurt’s just looking at him now, like he said something and now Blaine’s supposed to talk and-

“I really, really want to kiss you.”

_What? No...abort, abort-_

Kurt stops in front of him where he was just walking, and drops Blaine’s Paddington Bear, whom he was holding out for Blaine to see, his mouth dropping open.

“Wh-”

Blaine stands up and covers Kurt’s mouth with his hand, shushing him.

“No, okay, so listen I am so sorry I just said that,” Blaine begins, bringing his hand down to Kurt’s hip and squeezing. “That is so not what I meant to say-”

Kurt drops his eyes to the floor.

“Oh, okay, I mean-” Kurt shrugs and Blaine can see that he’s taken it the wrong way and _shit_.

“No, no, no, Kurt!” Blaine rushes on, grabbing for both of Kurt’s hands and bringing them up to his own mouth, kissing them both softly in turn while Kurt’s eyes widen and the blood drains from his face. “I mean, I want to kiss you so _badly_ , but I didn’t mean to just say it, just like that I mean-”

“Please stop talking,” Kurt begs, his hands shaking in Blaine’s hold. “Please, just-” His blue eyes are wide, pleading, and Blaine realizes he’s going to have to be the one...

“I- are you sure? I mean, I’m not that guy, you know, and I just-”

“I want to kiss you, Blaine,” Kurt explains, and heat blooms anew in Blaine’s chest. “I’ve wanted to for so _long_ -”

He stops, staring at Blaine’s mouth, and Blaine’s heart whips at his ribs. He licks his lips and Kurt bites his own, as each boy stares at the other until Blaine can’t take it.

“I-” he begins, dropping Kurt’s hands. He brings his fingertips up to trace the line of Kurt’s jaw and holds fast, pulling him close, closer, as Kurt closes his eyes.

Blaine feels his fingertips slip into Kurt’s hair as their lips touch, first slowly, dawn’s fingertips on sleeping hilltops, and then more, Kurt’s breath coming out hot, fast from his nose and pushing Blaine to be quicker; bolder. He pulls back a moment, then kisses again, taking Kurt’s bottom lip between his own and making Kurt gasp into his mouth.

Which is just about all the invitation Blaine needs.

He opens his mouth, just a bit, and licks at Kurt’s lower lip. Soft, sure strokes that make Kurt whine and grip Blaine’s back harder as he opens his own mouth to let him in. Kurt’s tongue is on his own then, hot, perfect little movements and then he’s pushing at Blaine, tearing into his mouth with vigor, if not technique.

Blaine tries to keep up, fingers in Kurt’s hair as they breathe in tandem and kiss, their bodies close, until-

“I-” Kurt says, breaking free and backing off toward his desk, hands awkwardly spread in front of his pants. “I’m...”

Blaine nods and ducks his head, laughing a little. “You’re not alone, okay? I just...I’m hiding it better.”

Kurt lifts his chin and smiles, although his cheeks are bright red. “Yeah?”

“Um, yes.” Blaine replies, and, feeling daring, flattens the material on either side of his zipper, erection prominent and pushing against the material. He looks away.

“Can,” Kurt begins, and Blaine looks back to him. He’s swaying a little, pink cheeks and dazed eyes, gaze settled on his bed. “I mean, can we, um...”

Blaine licks his lips.

“Tell me what you want to do, Kurt. I’ll do anything for you. Anything.”

Kurt smiles and tension bleeds from his shoulders.

“Can we keep...keep kissing? Like that? On...on my bed?” Kurt ask shyly, and Blaine is _done for_.

“God, Kurt,” he breathes, sitting back down on the bed and scooching himself back toward the headboard. “I would love that, I mean, if you’re sure?” He’s lying down now, arms open and empty, waiting for Kurt.

“O...” Kurt says, crossing the room surely and sinking down beside him. “...okay.”

Blaine reaches out, tracing Kurt’s cheek with his thumb.

“I so did not plan this.”

Kurt giggles, and Blaine could honestly _die_ , he’s so happy.

“I didn’t think you did, jerk.”

“Stop calling me je-”

Kurt’s kissing him again.

***

Blaine doesn’t know when it happened, but at some point things had gotten out of control and now, sitting on his bed, the last minutes of Friday ticking away, he has no idea how to text Kurt, let alone talk to him.

His phone lights up and he hits speaker right away, his forehead on his pillow.

“Grace, I fucked up.”

“Wait, wait. Let me get all the facts first, okay?” Grace says, and the breeze from Blaine’s open window ruffles his shower-wet curls. His room is dark; his parents in bed.

“I am freaking out, Grace. I mean-” he begins, but she cuts him off.

“What kind of sex are we talking here, Blaine. Did you use a condom, I mean, because I know you’re a virgin - okay, so you _were_ a virgin, but-”

“Well, it wasn’t really like that, I mean, we both came but-”

Grace groans. “Jesus, Blaine, I can’t believe you just told me you came, let me get that visual _right_ outta my head or I’ll have serious issues going to bed tonight, like damn.”

Blaine smiles and he can’t help it. Grace, in their three-years-going-on-thirty relationship has never made a secret of her attraction to him. In fact, she’s lamented it often, telling Blaine quite pleasantly how he could make it up to her.

He never gave her the pictures she asked for.

“Pervert. Harassing me when I’m heartbroken, I see how it is,” he teases, and she takes the bait.

“Hey, now, I’m not the one who confided my sex life in you, Blaine Anderson, you just remember that.” He nods into the pillow. “Okay, so tell me what happened. You say you both...oh god, you both came, but how did that happen?

_Kurt’s mouth on his neck, teeth scraping, biting, as Blaine thrust his hips up, seeking-_

“Well, we were making out-”

“Nom.”

“Grace, oh my god will you shut up I need help and I can’t ask my family and you’re my best friend besides Kurt and...oh, I have totally fucked up!” Blaine hits his head against the pillow.

“Come on, honey, it can’t be that bad. Okay, you were making out. Then what happened?”

_”Kurt, oh my god you feel so good, Kurt-”_

“I mean, he didn’t touch- I mean, I didn’t touch him and he didn’t touch me, we just like-”

“Dry humped?” Grace supplies, and Blaine winces.

“That is decidedly the un-classiest way of saying that I have ever heard.” he retorts, flushed and mortified. “But yes, I guess, and I mean I don’t think he meant to because he seemed really embarrassed and he just sounded so-”

_Kurt’s cock, hard and hot against the material of his pants, straining and sliding against Blaine, the thin cotton of his shorts hiding nothing._

_”Blaine- Blaine, I think I-, Blaine, ohmygod-”_

“Oh god.” Grace whispers, and then she’s giggling and Blaine could _hit _her.__

__“I’m hanging up on you! It’s not funny!!”_ he hisses, afraid to wake his parents. “It was so _awkward_ Grace, because my mom called not two minutes later to tell me to get home to unload some more-”_

_Grace bursts out laughing._

_“Oh my god,” Blaine says, retracing his words. “I should’ve called Jeremy.”_

_“No, no!” Grace breathes, catching her breath. “I’m so sorry, Blaine. I really, really am, because you are obviously upset but come _on_. Unload some more? Really, Blaine?”_

_He’s silent and she coughs once, twice._

_“Okay. I’m sorry. Continue, please. I’ll listen, I promise.” Grace is quieter, picking up Blaine’s mood._

_“So my mom called and he just...scurried into his closet to change while I was on the phone with her, and then he wouldn’t look at me and just, like, barely hugged me goodbye. He looked so _sad_ , Grace, and all I could think was, ‘I just kinda had sex with the love of my life!_’.”

Grace hums.

“Does he know you felt that way?” she inquires, and Blaine stills.

“No, I-” he shakes his head, keenly aware of all his mistakes. “I didn’t try to tell him or ask him anything it was all so _fast_ and _weird_.”

Grace sighs.

“Sex _is_ fast and weird. Remember when I called you after I slept with Michael last summer and I told you I felt like I was pretending to be an adult?”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” Grace continues, “it wasn’t because it was _bad_ , Blaine, it’s because it was so fast and weird and we didn’t know how to talk to one another and I felt so alone afterward even though he was so nice, and you guys didn’t even talk about it. I can’t imagine how alone _that_ must feel and if YOU feel like you messed up, then maybe Kurt does, too, you know?”

Blaine’s skin prickles and he feels cold; colder than the wind streaming in his screen would ever make him feel.

“Oh, no.”

“Yeah,” Grace replies. “Try to talk to him, okay? Text him at the very least that you can’t wait to see him again and that you’re thinking about him. Yeah?”

“Okay.” Blaine croaks, his body numb. “Thank you so much. I miss you already, GG.”

Grace sniffs.

“I miss you, too, B.”

***


	7. 11th Grade

 

Monday morning brings hot coffee and Cooper at the end of his bed.

“Morning squirt. I brought you coffee and a bagel to commemorate your first day as a junior at McKinley High.”

Blaine groans.

“Awww, c’mon. It’s not all bad, I mean, you’ll see Kurt, right? And you haven’t gotten to see him all weekend with mom and dad keeping you busy.”

At this Blaine covers his head.

“Go away, Cooper.”

“Alright, but I’m taking the coffee...you’re on your own finding more, we’re all out and I was _trying_ to be nice.”

Blaine feels Cooper leave the bed, hears the door swing shut, and Cooper padding back down the hall to his room.

_Damn._

***

“We are so getting coffee today,” Kurt declares, “or I will be unable to participate in the usual school day activities.” He pulls the navigator into a spot, barely noticing any of the other cars, cuts the engine and all three bodies in the car spill out.

“Ohh, boo. You shoulda slept more and you know it,” Mercedes scolds. “AND you should have just answered your boy’s texts. I read them all, he’s just trying to talk to you and I think you feel the same way he does.”

She pulls open the door to The Lima Bean and motions Kurt and Tina through, only to have Kurt collide with a rushing figure.

“Oh my god, watch it!” Kurt cries, shielding himself from the coffee spilling from the stranger’s crumpled cup.

“I’m so-”

Kurt looks up into deep hazel eyes.

“Oh.” Kurt sputters, hastening inside to grab napkins. He listens to Mercedes and Tina talk cordially with Blaine - hello-how-are-yous and idle chit-chat as Kurt grabs a fistful of napkins and returns, handing them to Blaine.

Blaine takes them and eyes Kurt meaningfully before dabbing at the stains all over his shirt and tie.

Shirt and _bow_ tie.

“As I was saying,” Blaine proceeds, crossing to the outdoor garbage can and depositing the soiled napkins. “I’m really, really sorry! I shouldn’t have been checking my phone. I was -er- checking for texts.” He looks at Kurt again, and the yearning on his face too much for Kurt to take.

“Well, we’re going to get our coffees, I guess we’ll see you at school, Blaine.”

Tina’s voice shocks them both, and Kurt doesn’t know if he should be pissed or grateful when he finds himself in the line, Blaine standing outside the door watching them go.

“Why did you do that?” Kurt hisses as he pulls his wallet from his backpack.

“Because the awkward was palpable, Kurt,” she retorts, taking out four dollars and clutching it in her right hand. “And we all know you guys need to talk somewhere where coffee isn’t setting into a gingham green shirt and there aren’t beanery patrons muttering about teenagers blocking the door, right?”

“I guess,” Kurt replies, and Mercedes pats his arm as she begins to order.

***

“So this is just an informal meeting during our regular Glee slot - hope this works for everyone because, as you know, scheduling tends to be a bit tricky, even in September.”

No one’s really listening to Mr. Schue. They all made it work somehow the last few years, having their elective block filled with Glee practice, with an after school session once a week for good measure seemed to work for them.

Kurt’s settled in his normal place, sandwiched between Mercedes and Mike-and-Tina, as Mr. schue continues.

“Now, I know we won’t hold auditions until Thursday, but I had a new student approach me this morning about singing an audition song for all of you today, and I’ve said yes-”

Kurt’s skin prickles. Does he mean-

“- Blaine Anderson, all the way from Portland, Oregon!”

Kurt slides down in his chair, trying to become one with the linoleum.

Or at least become invisible.

“Hi everyone,” Blaine begins, a new blue button-up and white striped tie replacing his splattered garments from earlier. “Mr. Schue is right - I am new here, but I actually know a lot about all of you from Kurt.” Blaine’s eyes land on him like lasers, and Kurt pulls himself up in the chair, face set.

“Most of you might not know, but I’ve known Kurt since I was six years old-”

Rachel looks at Kurt and smiles, her eyes bright, and Kurt wants to smile back, he does, but Blaine had said he didn’t mean for what happened to happen so-

“-and so he’s been my friend for as long as I can remember. I don’t know a time when he wasn’t there or when he didn’t support me. And...well, I think my song choice speaks for itself and I hope you’ll accept me, even if it is a little cliche,” Blaine bites his lip and then motions to the band, who begins.

 _I hope you’ll accept me_. Is that for me? Kurt can’t help but stare and wonder as the song begins.

 _Hmm ohh, I will come_  
Maybe it's intuition  
Somethings you just don't question  
Like in your eyes, I see my future in an instant  
And there it goes, I think I've found my best friend

 _I know that it might sound_  
More than a little crazy  
But I believe

 _I knew I loved you before I met you_  
I think I dreamed you into life  
I knew I loved you before I met you  
I have been waiting all my life

Kurt can feel everything Blaine’s saying, hope bursting clean and bright from his vocal chords, and he wants to believe it, wants to hear Blaine through his fear.

 _There's just no rhyme or reason_  
Only a sense of completion  
And in your eyes, I see the missing pieces  
I'm searching for, I think I've found my way home

Blaine’s eyes are shining, his body moving with the words, gesturing his feelings out in front of the whole Glee club, Mr. Schue smiling softly on the edge. Kurt turns to look at his friends, and the girls are all mesmerized; pulled in by Blaine’s beautiful voice. Finn is holding Rachel tight, and so is Mike with Tina. Puck is just starting at Kurt, his eyes shimmering, and Kurt can’t quite believe what he’s seeing.

Blaine has touched every single member of Glee club.

Especially him.

Kurt can barely breathe as Blaine finishes the song out, eyes only for Kurt. He crosses the room and pulls an envelope from where it had been tucked into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Just read it, okay?” he whispers, handing Kurt the envelope. He stands and nods to Mr. Schue, who just inclines his head and watches Blaine leave.

  
***

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! Songs in this story are...to be compiled later. ;)
> 
> And I don't own Glee or any of its characters...I just play in their sandbox!


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